Talking on Paper
by IdiotFromOsaka
Summary: AU. Kiku Honda lives in a world of silence, finding his only escape from reality in his daily art class. Herakles Karpusi is a normal guy. Paired together on a school project, an unlikely friendship is formed, through nothing more than writing. GiriPan
1. Chapter 1

_God, It's been a long time since I've written a fanfic… This one is one I'm actually going to finish though! It's my first chapter-fic (I usually write oneshots), but I've got a pretty good idea of where the plot will be going from here on out, so I most definitely accomplish the feat of completing a story! Yay! I really want to be correct about everything on this subject, so if I make a mistake, please tell me about it. I've been doing research, but I could always be wrong. Well, enough with my rambling, on with the story!_

_Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing, ESPECIALLY not Hetalia. It belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya._

* * *

><p>Talking on Paper<p>

by IdiotFromOsaka

_"Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear, and the blind can read." ~ Mark Twain_

oOoOo

Kiku stepped into a silent hallway. Thin arms wrapped tightly around several new textbooks in his arms as the soles of his shoes chaffed the tile beneath them. Two students leaned on the lockers to his left, their mouths moving wildly. No words.

His head jerked up as a shoulder collided with his. The student walked on by, not giving Kiku a second glance. Kiku would have said "I'm sorry", but his hands were full. He wouldn't be able to sign it correctly.

He continued down the hall, narrowly avoiding the other Juniors. They didn't notice the small asian boy, with their attention focused on their own conversation. Kiku was left out, as usual. But he didn't care too much, they wouldn't be able to communicate with each other anyway. The dark haired boy focused on finding his way to his next class.

The first day of school was always the hardest. Once again, Kiku had to use a map to find his classes, and re-write his new schedule into his calendar, as to not to forget anything. His teachers hadn't yet gotten used to him, or his interpreter, in their class yet. And introductions were the worst.

Kiku neatly piled the new textbooks into his locker, each softly vibrating as they slid over the metal shelf. He lifted himself off the floor, brushing dirt off his jeans as he stood. His attention turned to the small slip of paper in his hand, a class schedule. Thumb brushing over the parchment, his finger landed on the line balancing the name of his eighth hour class neatly on top of it.

_8th Hour: Drawing & Painting II _

Kiku smiled to himself. The best was saved for last.

Without even a glance at the school map, an animated Kiku strolled off to his favorite place on earth.

oOoOo

Despite having been cleaned over the summer, the art room still retained the same distinct smell that Kiku had come to love. Drawing charcoal, mixed with the soft scent of paper and the sharp one of paint.

The floors were a cool grey shade of concrete, smooth to the point where Kiku barely noticed any friction between his shoes an the floor. White desks ridden with smudges of paint and charcoal were positioned in a semi- circle, forming one big smile in the center of the room.

Kiku, taking notice that his interpreter was already seated in a chair by the chalkboard, made his way to an empty seat in the second row of desks, between a blonde boy whose jaw seemed to constantly move, and a wavy-haired brunette with his head resting on his arms, sleeping.

The asian boy's eyes drifted to the walls of the classroom. Like most teachers, his art teacher had inspirational posters taped onto the walls, telling people to 'Do Their Best', and 'Reach For The Stars', but side by side with them was artwork from past students, paintings and drawings, even a few of his own- the ones he was proud enough of to give away, but didn't like enough to keep for himself.

It was always interesting to look at how the pictures on the walls were slowly added over the course of the year, sprouting up like little flowers in sidewalk cracks and slowly adding color to the dull room. He imagined there would be at least five more pictures up by the end of the quarter.

He'd already seen the paintings on the walls and quickly became bored, so Kiku placed his class schedule facedown on the table as he retrieved a pencil from his pocket. Slowly, he began making marks on the page, first a circle to mark where the head would go, before attaching it to a small stick figure skeleton. Carefully, he drew the contour of the body, now recognizably female, with her hands on her hips. It wasn't his best work, not even close, just a fun piece of fanart that he probably wouldn't finish. He gave the girl a pointed chin and a wide smile, with a face framed with short dark hair and ribbons.

Around him, the students in the room stopped moving their mouths, slowly finding their way to their seats. Even the hyper blonde boy beside him had brought his jaw to a close. Kiku took this as his cue to put his drawing away.

The teacher, a young blonde lady with hair pulled into a messy bun, danced her way to the front of the room. As she opened her mouth, Kiku turned his attention to an older lady in the corner, who now stood facing him with her hands in front of her.

Her hands moved in sync with the teacher's lips as she spoke.

_Hello, _she signed, '_My name is Mrs. Tanner, and welcome to Drawing and Painting Two! I'll be your teacher for this semester. I've already had all of you before, so I think I already know your names, but so you guys can all get to know each other, let's go around the room and introduce everybody. Just say your name and one interesting fact about yourself.'_

Looking back to the teacher, she pointed at a ponytailed boy in the right corner of the room, who began moving his lips. Kiku's eyes quickly darted to the older woman in the corner, showing him what the ponytailed boy was saying.

'_Hello, my name is Wang Yao and I'm originally from China.'_

Kiku squirmed in his seat. He hated introductions, they were always embarrassing. He got too many stares, his hands got shaky, he started blushing. Nothing good came from it.

After a while, the blonde boy beside him stood up, opening his mouth wide. According to the woman at the front of the room, he said '_My name is Alfred F. Jones, and I'm a hero!' _He gained several odd looks from the class.

Now it was Kiku's turn. Taking a deep breath, he brought his right hand up to his ear, before pulling it away, forming a motion much like a traditional wave. '_Hello.' _He brought the hand to his chest. Then, bringing both hands up, he tapped two fingers from each hand together. '_My name is.' _Finally, he finger-spelled out his name, '_K-I-K-U H-O-N-D-A.'_

Almost as an afterthought, he added '_And I am deaf.'_

The woman at the front of the room, who he had earlier been told was named Mrs. Lacy, had mouthed the words along with him as he signed them, interpreting them for the rest of the class to understand. Several students stared. Kiku hunched his shoulders as he slipped back into his seat, as if his shoulders could hide him from his classmates gazes.

Mrs. Tanner opened her mouth. '_Just so you all know,' _Mrs. Lacy interpreted, '_since Kiku is deaf, we will also have Mrs. Lacy here to interpret what everyone is saying for him. I expect you all to treat him exactly the same as you would any other classmate. Anyway, next?'_

The boy beside Kiku still had his eyes closed, barely having moved a muscle since Kiku walked in. Dark, wavy locks fell over his forehead, gently brushing his eyelids. No one made a move to wake him. He looked so incredibly peaceful… Kiku didn't want to wake him either. But feeling the pressure around him, he moved to nudge the boys shoulder, poking him with his forefinger. The boy stirred, but didn't awaken. Kiku shook his shoulder, no response. Finally, in one final attempt, Kiku shook his shoulder even harder, and luckily, the brunette's eyes fluttered open, revealing beautiful emerald green iris's.

The boy raised his head drowsily, much like a cat just awaking from a nap, and slowly scanned the room, searching for any idea of what was going on. He turned his gaze to Kiku, cocking his head, a question in his eyes. He mouthed words to the smaller boy- something that Kiku couldn't quite place meaning to. He looked to Mrs. Lacey for the answer, but the older woman simply shrugged.

'_I couldn't hear him,' _she signed.

Kiku looked a the teacher, and as Mrs. Tanner began to move her lips, his attention went back to the older woman in the corner. '_Glad to see you've joined the world of the living.' _A quick glance back to the teacher showed that she was smiling. '_Could you please introduce yourself to the rest of us?'_

Mrs. Lacy's hands went still, and Kiku let his gaze drift to the tanned boy beside him. The boy nodded, and opened his mouth. Kiku's eyes darted back to the front of the room.

'_Hello, My name is Herakles Karpusi and… I like cats.'_

oOoOo

As soon as introductions finished, the teacher skipped back to the front of the class room with an overly-happy bounce that Kiku knew would be gone by next week.

'_Okay, class!' _Mrs. Tanner's smile was huge, and her mouth was moving fast. '_I know it's only the first day of school, but I have an assignment for all of you!' _The class notably deflated. '_Oh, don't be like that. It'll be fun I promise.'_

Mrs. Tanner explained the class (and Mrs. Lacy told Kiku) that what would they would be doing, for the next month, would be portraits. _Oh, but not normal portraits, _Mrs. Lacy translated, '_Each of you will have a partner, and I want you to create a portrait that captures both their physical traits and their personality. You're partner will be the person you're sharing a table with.'_

Kiku looked to his right, to find his partner to be the sleeping boy from earlier. His name was… Hercules? No- It was Herakles, right? Yes, Herakles Karpusi. The sleeping boy who loved cats.

The teacher then said for everyone to get to know their partners the rest of class, and left the students to themselves, sitting back down at her desk.

Kiku shook the boy awake.

Herakles, with a drowsy expression still remaining on his face, lifted his head from his arms. Green eyes, partially hidden beneath his eyelids, met Kiku's. He spoke- something, but nothing registered in Kiku's mind. Luckily, Mrs. Lacy had appeared right behind him.

_'Excuse me, Mr. Karpusi?' _Mrs. Lacy signed and spoke at the same time. The older woman explained to the sleepy-eyed boy what was going on, before adding what was probably pretty important. _'And, since you missed the introductions, you'll need to know that Kiku is deaf. I can translate if you want.'_

Herakles just waved her away. He dug into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out what was probably his class schedule and a pencil. Flipping the paper over, he scribbled on the back: _We can just talk like this. Is that okay with you?_

Kiku took his own pencil in hand and wrote, _It is fine with me._

_ So, we're supposed to get to know each other then? _Herakles responded.

Kiku nodded.

_So, then… _Herakles scribbled in lazy handwriting, _Tell me about yourself. What's your favorite color?_

_ Blue._

_ Why?_

Kiku thought for a moment. Nobody had really ever asked _why _he liked a certain color before. Did their even need to be a reason? … Kiku jotted down the first thing that came to mind.

_It's calming, I guess. I don't really have a reason. What is your favorite color, Herakles?_

_ Sea green._

Tentatively, he jotted down his next question. _Why?_

Herakles gave him a lazy smirk. _Reminds me of the ocean._

_ You've been to the ocean before?_ Kiku questioned. He had lived inland his entire life. The largest body of water he'd ever seen was his neighborhood swimming pool.

_No, but I want to._

_ Where would you go? To see the ocean, I mean._

The taller boy took no time in thinking of his answer. _Greece. My mother grew up there. She says it's beautiful._

_ I've heard the same thing._

_ Where would you go? _Herakles asked. _If you could go anywhere in the world._

Anywhere? Kiku thought for a moment. _Japan, _he answered.

_Why? _Herakles certainly liked that question, didn't he?

_I've heard I have family there, but I've never met them. I would like to get to know them._

_ That's nice._

_ Do you have family elsewhere?_

_ My mother grew up in Greece, so most of my family is there. I've only met them when they fly to America for vacation every once in a while._

_ It must be nice to see them._

In his lazy, chicken-scratch handwriting, Herakles wrote, _Yes, but their a little crazy._

Kiku chuckled. _I think all family is._

Suddenly, Herakles looked up, and the other students around the two started to gather their things. _The bell rang, _Herakles wrote. _It's time to go. See you tomorrow then?_

_ Yes, see you tomorrow._

The brunette boy gathered his few things, and walked to the door, smiling lazily at Kiku as he walked past. Kiku folded his drawing from earlier in his pocket, and picked up his pencil. For some reason, he was really excited to see the Greek boy tomorrow. He left the classroom with a smile on his face.

And so they met.

* * *

><p>Hoped you liked it! R&amp;R and crap! The next chapter will be up soonish, but I can't make any promises. :) Thanks for reading!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

_Hello to anyone who's reading this! Okay, first off, you all have permission to kill me. I'm a horrible updater. I'm soooooooooo sorry you had to wait for this update. My only excuse is the fact that I'm taking all honors classes and I generally have a shitload of homework and I'm also kinda lazy. But this chapter is done so yay! Not a super exciting chapter…. but it has importance in the story, so it needs to be here. Anyway, thank you to everyone who's reading this and anyone who's reviewed! I love you guys!_

_Note: Kiku and the gang live in the US, so he signs in ASL._

_Disclaimer: I own nothing but my computer and a Sealand cosplay. Neither of which are Hetalia._

* * *

><p>Talking on Paper<p>

By IdiotFromOsaka

_"A smile is a language that even a baby understands" ~Unknown_

oOoOo

Chalky drawing charcoal covered the tips of Kiku's fingers as he tapped them furiously against what used to be a solid white table. After a day of use, it was now merely a dusty grey. He felt his fingers jitter slightly as they touched the smooth surface of the desk.

For a moment, he stilled.

Why was he so shaky in the first place? He shouldn't be nervous. No- nervous wasn't the word. Could it be he was… excited?

Kiku shook his head, flyaway strands of hair brushing his cheeks. There was nothing to be excited about. It was just another day of art class.

His gaze shifted to the table in front of him. Piled on it, two notebooks. One, a shining dark green, was filled with ruled paper, a cheap paperback that you could find in any grocery store. The second was a hardcover sketchpad, only half the size of the first, with aqua-colored binding hiding thick sheets of drawing paper.

Kiku reached for the sketchbook, running the pads of his fingers over the slight ridge of the cover. He opened it, turning to the first page. He slipped a mechanical pencil out of his pocket, pressing the tip to the parchment. Dragging the graphite across the paper, he formed the outline of a head, clearly male, with a strong chin. Kiku marked the eye sockets with two dark smudges, before drawing the contour of a slightly crooked nose.

The table wobbled slightly beneath Kiku's sketchbook. Looking up, he found Herakles, slumped into a paint-speckled plastic chair. His eyes were half-open- Oh, it was three-quarters now- and for a moment, Kiku noticed how long his eyelashes were. Herakles' lips pulled into a sleepy smile as his gaze fell on Kiku.

Kiku watched as the other boy's hand moved up to his ear and then fell away. He recognized that motion.

_'Hello.'_

Kiku's lips twitched into a smile, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. With his face feeling slightly warmer than earlier, Kiku mimicked Herakles' motion. Herakles' eyes got a little wider.

With his thumbs still standing up, Herakles curled both hands into fists and brought them up to his chest. He pressed the sides of his fingers from each fist against each other, and turned each hand in the opposite direction of the other. Then, he pointed at Kiku. _'How are you?'_

The signs were incredibly basic. Kiku guessed that Herakles probably didn't know much more than what he had just signed. But he had taken the time to learn it, hadn't he? Internally, Kiku smiled at the thought. He began to sign back.

Bringing his hand up to his face, he let the tips of his fingers touch his chin, before pulling his arm away. _'Good.' _Then, he copied Herakles' motion from earlier, signing out _'How are you?'_

Tentatively, Herakles signed back. _'Good.'_

For some reason, the small gesture made Kiku feel like he wanted to smile the biggest smile of his life. Instead, he let his face slowly get warmer.

Remembering what the purpose of the cheaper notebook was, Kiku rested his sketchbook on the table and reached for green notebook near the front edge of the table. He turned to the first page.

_Your sign language is very good, _Kiku wrote neatly on the top line.

Herakles took his own pencil in hand, a dull wooden one unlike Kiku's mechanical, and scribbled out: _Really?_

_ Yes._

_ Good. I was worried, because all the stuff was just from videos on the internet._

_ Well, it was very good._

_ Thanks._

For a moment, the paper was filled with silence, neither making move to write. Kiku's thumb pressed a little tighter against his pencil, and his eyes momentarily flicked towards Herakles. Wavy strands of hair brushed the Greek boy's cheek as his head dipped down, his hand moving to write.

_So, do you have a favorite animal? _Herakles wrote, his large lettering strikingly different from Kiku's. The thick characters slipped past the light blue boundaries of the ruled paper, messy compared to the small, thin writing above his. Still legible though, and that was what mattered.

_I like cats, but I used to have a dog. _Each line was meticulous, almost computer like. Kiku had been told once that his handwriting looked like a girls', _"But the lines aren't as curvy!"_

_What kind?_

Kiku tapped his pencil against his chin before writing again. _I don't remember actually. I remember he was small and fluffy though. Do you have any pets?_

_ I have three c_- Herakles' letters trailed off as he lifted his head.

Kiku surveyed the room, finding that everyone had begun to settle into their seats. He knew by now that this was because class had probably started.

He felt a light tap on his shoulder.

Kiku turned back to face Herakles, who pointed to the notebook between the two of them. A couple lines below their conversation, Herakles wrote: _Class is starting. Talk to you later?_

Kiku set his pencil on the table. With the smallest of smiles worn on his face he nodded to the boy beside him. And Herakles nodded back, eyes fluttering shut.

oOoOo

Despite how much he loved it, Kiku had always found art class the hardest to follow.

Mrs. Tanner stood at the front of the room, with a pencil in her hand and an easel behind her, while Mrs. Lacy sat at the edge, closer to the doorway. Today, they were reviewing the basics of drawing faces (something that had been taught the year before) and Mrs. Tanner, in her haste to make sure the students had time to practice it themselves, was moving her mouth faster than usual.

Mrs. Lacy was doing her best keeping up, and Kiku found his eyes constantly flicking back and forth between the two. Now he was dizzy.

He wished for a second he could just sleep away like Herakles, who at the moment had his head nuzzled in his arms beside him. Kiku glanced over, letting his eyes trace the face of the sleeping boy.

Herakles was a softer kind of handsome. He didn't have a face that particularly stood out- no super-strong jaw or bright blond hair that separated him from the crowd- but instead a slightly rounded face that just radiated pure calm, awake or asleep. And even though his eyes were closed, Kiku could remember how grassy green they were, and how they always held the impression that the boy was wiser than his years.

Just as he was about to look away, Kiku noticed two twin curls on the top of Herakles' head. He laughed on the inside, for no other reason than just how odd they looked.

When Kiku's eyes found their way back to the board, he found he had missed almost nothing.

Mrs. Tanner had only gone though a single page of paper, and was now drawing what looked like a sideways venn-diagram, except that the circle on the bottom was smaller than the one on top. He looked back to Mrs. Lacy and hoped he wouldn't get dizzy again.

_'… And you can use this as a guide to help you find the basic proportions of a head,' _She signed. _'It's basically a simplified version of your skull.'_

Kiku remembered this from last year. Looking behind Mrs. Tanner to examine the diagrams she had just pasted on the whiteboard, it seemed that she hadn't done anything so far except review. Somewhat bored and not in the mood to make his head spin again, he pulled his sketchbook from the edge of his desk and opened to the page he'd used earlier.

The graphite had smeared just a little, but the outline was definitely still there. Picking up his pencil, he darkened what he had already drawn, before moving the tip of his pencil right under the drawing's nose. He sketched in a few light, rounded lines to serve as lips for the man before moving onto his eyes. Kiku drew them round, and slightly sleepy, with the drawing's eyes only half-open.

The end of a pencil suddenly landed on the edge of the paper sending a dull tap through the sketchbook. As he looked to his left, Kiku found that the pencil was connected to hand, connected to an arm, connected to a body, a body that happened to belong to Herakles Karpusi. It seemed he had woken up.

Herakles pressed his lips together- not that Kiku was looking at his lips or anything- and tapped the sketchpad again. But instead of stopping there, he brought the same hand that held the pencil to his chin, and signed the word 'good'.

Kiku wasn't quite sure, but he thought he'd gotten the gist of the motions. He was trying to say _'That is good.'_

The corners of Kiku's lips pulled up slightly as he dipped his head in thanks, and turned back to his drawing. For a few moments he began to add more detail to the nose, but stopped as he could begin to feel a set of eyes staring at him. He looked up. Herakles had leaned in a little closer, craning his neck so that he could see the drawing.

Kiku shifted in his seat. _Could you please not look over my shoulder? _he wrote in the notebook.

Herakles glanced down at the message. He nodded, and leaned in the opposite direction. _Sorry, _he scribbled below. For a second, Herakles paused, with his hand hovering above the paper, before he wrote again. _You're really good though. Probly better than everyone here._

Kiku figured he was just being polite, but the look in his eyes said otherwise. _Thank you… _he wrote, _but you really shouldn't say such things. I'm sure everyone here is very good at art._

_ Yeah, but I've been in class with most of them. Most of them need models to draw people well._

_ That's normal._

_ But you didn't use one, did you?_

Kiku looked up from the paper, and his eyes met Herakles'. Herakles's expression made it clear that he already knew the answer. But it wasn't mean, the way he looked. Not calm either…. Sincere. That was it. He looked sincere.

_…You still shouldn't say things like that, _he told him. _Also, you spelled probably wrong. _Kiku drew an arrow pointing to a few lines above the one he was writing on.

Beside him, Herakles' lips formed a small curve as he shrugged. Looking down, he scribbled two simple words. _Oh well._

oOoOo

After their small exchange, Herakles had gone back to sleeping and did so for the rest of class. Kiku continued to work on his drawing, which was almost done. And no, he didn't take any more glances at the sleeping boy. Not at all.

As he stepped out of the class room, Herakles walked up behind him and tapped his shoulder. He waved goodbye as he walked in the opposite direction that Kiku was headed. Kiku did the same.

Weaving through the crowd, Kiku felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. The vibration didn't last long though, telling Kiku that it was a text message as opposed to a phone call (which were almost always from telemarketers, as all of his friends knew that it was absolutely useless to call him.) He pulled the phone out of his pocket. A message flashed on the screen:

NEW MESSAGE

FROM: FELICIANO

hi kiku! how was school? i know you really like school even though i dont but ludwigs there so i dont really care alot but anyway ludwig and gilbert and lovino and mee are going to this new cafe thats neer ur school! u should come too! its called mia's and they have cake and coffee and stufff!

Kiku sighed. The grammar (well, the lack of it actually) almost gave him a headache. But otherwise, the offer sounded nice. He hadn't seen his friends in several weeks, and he didn't have a lot of homework to do anyway.

He texted back:

TO: FELICIANO

That sounds nice. Where is it?

A few moments later, he received an answer.

NEW MESSAGE

FROM: FELICIANO

its on robinson st by that lawndromat and the grocery store!

Kiku nodded to himself, slipping his phone back in his pocket. He reached his locker and gathered a few things before heading for the schools main entrance. The sun was bright in the sky, and Kiku could feel just a hint of a breeze. As he was about to begin walking, Kiku realized that he hadn't responded to Feliciano.

He slipped his phone out of his pocket, and typed his response.

TO: FELICIANO

Okay, I'll be there.

* * *

><p><em>CLIFFHANGER!<em>

_Just kidding. But yes, Kiku is a total grammar nazi. It's okay Kiku, writing Feli's part gave me a headache too….. Anyway, thank you for reading this! I hope you liked it!_

_Reviewers get free internet-hugs!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Oh look, I'm back. I apologize for the super long wait, but just so you know, this fanfiction will never ever become a deadfic. I may have long breaks between updates, but I'll continue writing this until it sees it's end._

_There's a lot of deaf-culture things in this chapter, which I'll explain at the bottom if anyone would like to know. I hope you all enjoy this chapter!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and I don't own Hetalia._

* * *

><p>Talking on Paper<p>

By IdiotFromOsaka

_"It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson_

__oOoOo

The café Feliciano had told Kiku about, though cute, was nothing particularly special. Mia's was in a small brick building, nestled between a laundromat and music shop, and only steps from the grocery store. A plastic 'open' sign hung in the doorway. On each side of the door was a window, allowing Kiku to easily see the interior of the building. The walls were painted and olive green color, and the floor was covered in off-white tiles. On one side of the store was a display of pastries connected to wooden counter. A boy, probably no older than 19, stood behind it in a black apron, tapping his fingers in a sporadic rhythm. The other side of the store was filled with tables and chairs, along with an assortment of people.

Kiku entered, and was immediately hit by the smell of newly dried paint. A shiver ran down his back as he began to feel the difference in temperature between the air conditioned cafe and the outdoors, weather that hadn't changed since summer. Kiku scanned the room for his friends, but there was no sign of them. He sighed, and pulled out a chair for himself. It made sense that they weren't here yet, Kiku figured. Kiku's school wasn't more than 10 minutes from this place by foot, but his friends all went to a school that was all the way across town.

Relaxing back into his chair a bit, Kiku took a deep breath, taking in the smell of the place. Under the overbearing scent of paint, he could smell coffee, as well as baked goods. He imagined that when the sharp, and almost annoying, odor of paint had faded, the place would be filled with a fragrance that made you hungry as soon as you got a whiff of it.

For a split second, hot air flooded the store. Kiku looked towards the doorway, now open. Four bodies strolled through entrance, and Kiku immediately recognized them.

First was a smaller boy, with lightly tanned skin and auburn hair. His lips were pulled into a huge grin, and his hands were a blur as he signed to the rest of the group. Behind him was a boy of a similar stature, but slightly taller. His hair was just a little darker than that of the first boy, as was his skin, but they both had the same thin body structure and fine facial features. That was where the similarities ended. The second boy had his face twisted into a permanent scowl, endlessly shooting glares at the two boys behind him.

Trailing after him was the tallest of the group, a rather strong-looking guy with slicked back blond hair and cerulean eyes. His face held no real expression, but Kiku noticed he kept sneaking glances at the first boy. Last through the door was certainly the oddest looking of the group. Although taller than the first two boys, he was shorter than the blond boy in front of him. He had short white (yes, _white_) hair, and smiling crimson eyes. A smirk was cemented on his face.

Kiku knew every single one of them. He waved at the group, hoping to get their attention. The boy leading the group was the first to notice, and before Kiku could react, the cheery boy had basically tackled him. Even though he was pretty sure it was supposed to be a hug.

Kiku stiffened. He was exactly a fan of public displays of affection. Or affection in general. Or people touching him.

He squirmed, and the boy let go.

_'Hi Kiku!' _he signed, but instead of spelling his name out, he made the sign for K, bringing it to his ear and tapping twice with his middle finger. Kiku's name sign.

Kiku gave a tight-lipped smile. _'Hello Feliciano,' _he replied. Like Feliciano, he used a name sign in place of the other boy's name, bring a flat hand to his chest and quickly brushing the fabric of his shirt with his palm. The motion meant 'happy', a descriptor that everyone agreed suited Feliciano perfectly.

Feliciano smiled a little wider, and his chest shook. _'Your shirt is dirty.' _And indeed it was. Grey graphite had marked the fabric of his shirt, irking Kiku. _'What have you been drawing?'_

Kiku looked to his fingertips. A gleaming grey substance covered his fingers, making it apparent to anyone with artistic experience that he had been shading. Kiku lifted his head back up to meet Feliciano's eyes. _'We're working on portraits in class.'_

Feliciano's eyebrows raised. _'That's so cool!' _he said, and let the topic drop. Kiku knew he wouldn't push further if he thought the drawing was at school, he wouldn't obsess over how good he thought it was, he wouldn't show it to the entire restaurant. This peace of mind let the guilt of lying to Feliciano subside. (But was it even lying if he just hid part of the truth?)

After surveying the café, Feliciano pointed to a table in the corner of the restaurant. He turned around to face the group and walked backwards, signing _'This way!' _as he went.

Only maybe an inch from the edge of the table, he stopped and signed to the tallest of the group. _'Ludwig,' _he said, signing the word 'stone', but replacing the fist that tapped the back of his had with the letter L, _'Sit with me!'_

Ludwig nodded, going along with Feliciano's wishes, although not everyone in the group was exactly pleased.

The darkest haired of the group, a boy named Lovino, shot Ludwig a glare. In one harsh motion, he brought a sideways hand up to his forehead in a way that made it look like he was attempting to chop his head in half. _'Bastard.'_

No one remarked on the swear. The gesture was such a common one coming from Lovino that, if noticed at all, was met with a small chuckle, usually from the white-haired boy, Gilbert.

The group sat down. Kiku, seated between Gilbert and Lovino, leaned back against the wooden chair that wasn't nearly as comfortable as the chair he had sat in earlier, shifting when he felt the slats dig into his back. The others, not counting Lovino, sat up alertly while the dark-haired boy slouched.

_'So!' _Feliciano started, motioning widely, _'How was every one's summer? Kiku?' _

Kiku blinked, noting that he'd been addressed. _'I did not do much,' _he told them, _'I took some art classes. I stayed in town, though,' _Feeling uncomfortable with all eyes on him, Kiku politely brought the focus back to Feliciano._'What about you?'_

Feliciano smiled brightly. _'Lovino and I went to Italy! It was so pretty, and Grandpa taught me how to read Italian, and everyone was really really nice. The food too! The food was super good!' _Kiku's interest in the story slowly waned, and he let his attention float to art class.

He thought about Herakles. He had to create a portrait of him, didn't he? Mrs. Tanner didn't say what medium to use. Since it was Drawing & Painting, he could paint it, couldn't he?

No oil paint, he mused. That would take to long to dry. Acrylic would work. He wouldn't want to use too big of a canvas- speaking of which, gesso or no gesso? Kiku thought for a moment, finally coming to the conclusion of not using it. The laziness of it seemed very Herakles-ish. Then there was the composition…

Kiku was pulled back to reality by a hand waving in front of his face. Eyebrows snapping up, he realized he had been addressed. He apologized immediately.

_'It's cool,' _Gilbert said, a mischievous smile plastered to his face. _'Little Feliciano here just wanted to ask you something.' _Feliciano nodded eagerly.

_'What is it?' _Kiku asked.

_'Well,' _Feliciano began, _'I was just saying how you couldn't have done _nothing_ over the summer!' _Feliciano shook his hand slightly as he signed the word 'nothing'. _'So I was thinking, you have to have gotten a boyfriend or something!'_

For a moment, no one moved a muscle as Kiku sat, stunned. The first to move was Ludwig, lightly elbowing Feliciano beside him.

_'Feliciano,' _he scolded. _'You can't just say things like that.'_

But Feliciano was immune to the unspoken rules of society, it seemed. He looked up at Ludwig, puzzled. _'Why not?'_

Kiku paid no attention to the conversation, for his own mind was a flurry of thoughts. Part of him almost laughed at how silly the assumption was. Of course Kiku didn't have a boyfriend. Kiku didn't like men.

He was pretty sure, at least.

But another part of him asked, what if he did?

Kiku shook away the thought. He couldn't think like that. It wouldn't lead to anything good, just confusion. No use.

He began to sign. _'Feliciano, I'm not interested in men like that. And I currently am not involved in a relationship.' _

_'I see..'_

The conversation came to a halt, and awkwardness reached over the group. No one moved until Feliciano tried to start a conversation, ultimately failing.

After a few minutes, Gilbert started signing. _'So, anyone want some coffee?'_

oOoOo

The group remained at the coffeehouse for another half an hour before everyone said their goodbyes. Kiku decided to take his time walking home that day. He had no homework to finish, no chores to get done. And it was a beautiful day.

The early autumn sun warmed his skin, the heat balanced out by a gentle breeze. The wind's soft hands played in his hair as he walked.

The was only one thing on his mind now.

__

Kiku's brow furrowed. Feliciano's assumption from earlier kept ringing in his head, only answered by that name.

Kiku didn't like men, so why did he think of that sleepy, wavy-haired boy every time?

Every single time.

It annoyed him. He was sure of that. Yet somehow, thinking of Herakles made him smile. The perfect messiness of his hair made him laugh. Every word written in his nearly illegible handwriting made him feel warm inside.

Kiku kicked a stray rock on the sidewalk. Is this what they called a crush?

He didn't know. He just didn't know.

* * *

><p><em>Sigh. Kiku's getting pretty angsty here. I don't think I'll have a lot of problem with the whole 'questioning sexual orientation' thing though, considering I've been through it myself. Anyway, author's notes:<em>

_Name signs are an alternate to finger-signing names in the deaf community. Since finger spelling out someone's name can take a long time (Could you imagine spelling out F-E-L-I-C-I-A-N-O every time you said his name), sign names are an alternative, although people with names under 3 letter may not use them._

_Name signs usually come from one of 4 things: Personality, appearance, a play on someone's name, or a hobby or job. Kiku's name sign is a play on his name. Tapping your ear twice means 'hear' in sign language, and although the kanji for Kiku's name means Chrysanthemum, when written in hiragana 'kiku' means 'to hear'. So the letter K was mixed with 'hear' to make his name sign._

_Feliciano's is pretty obvious. He's a happy guy, so his name sign is happy. Ludwig's sign is a play on his personality and appearance. He's both built like a rock and has a very hard-headed personality. Gilbert's will probably end up being 'mischievous'. I have nothing for Lovino. I'm open to suggestions for him._

_Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm going to attempt to get a new chapter up by new years. Happy Holidays!_


	4. Chapter 4

_I'm very proud of this reasonably timed update. And I'm also a big fan of this chapter. I tried to capture more of the subtleness of Kiku's and Herakles' relationship here, which is one of the reasons I like this couples so much. Also, cats. Lots of cats. Anyway, enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters do not belong to me in any way, shape, or form._

* * *

><p>Talking on Paper<p>

By IdiotFromOsaka

_"Before I met you I never knew what it was like to be able to look at someone and smile for no reason." ~Unknown_

From the time he was in kindergarten, a single question had always troubled Kiku Honda:

Why did the school year always start on a Wednesday?

Maybe it was so both teachers and students did not have to deal with a whole week of school as soon as they arrived back. Or perhaps whoever came up with the school schedule held the firm belief that the school year should never start on a Monday.

Or maybe so moments like this could come sooner.

Kiku sighed as he dragged a pencil across his sketchbook. Only the third day of school and the days had already melted into a comfortable monotony. Wake up, go to school, schoolwork, schoolwork, more schoolwork, lunch, much more schoolwork, art class (Kiku did not consider this part of the schoolwork category, as it was more of a break than actual work), go home, homework, dinner, homework, and sleep. Repeat the process 180 times.

And then once more in his Senior year.

Kiku wasn't quite sure if he should feel content in the secureness of routine, or bored and worried that he was growing complacent.

He watched the clock. He wasn't bored, per say, just ready to go home. It was a Friday after all.

The second hand steadily made its way around of the expanse of the clock, and Kiku wondered if watching it move actually made it move slower. However, he forgot the notion as soon as he felt the edge of a piece of paper brush against his wrist.

To his right was Herakles, slumped over the dusty table, with a folded piece of paper in his hand. He motioned with he paper towards Kiku, as if instructing him to open it. Kiku removed the notepaper from Herakles' hand, unfolding it once, twice, three times.

A small note was scribbled in the center, ignoring the paper's lines.

_Hey, _it said. _Would you like to work on our project after school today? We can do it at my house if that's okay._

Kiku contemplated the invitation for a moment, but not much longer.

_That would be nice, _he wrote. _I'll just have to check with my mom. Do you have art supplies at your house?_

Herakles quickly replied, _Yeah, but it's mostly drawing supplies. Is that okay? _

_ Yes, that's fine. _Kiku then decided to pose his own question. _Do you prefer drawing or painting?_

Herakles' pencil was brought to his chin as he thought. _Drawing, _he replied. _What about you?_

_ Painting._

_ I see you drawing more often though. _

_It's much easier to get the supplies for drawing, as opposed to painting._

_ Touché. (did I spell that right?)_

_ Yes, you did._

Kiku's pencil sat still in his hand as he let his gaze slide in Herakles' direction. He didn't know what to write now, so he just looked. Herakles looked back. Something, some sort of unspoken message, passed between their line of vision. Both laughed, without a reason why.

Herakles cocked his head upward as Kiku saw his classmates stand up in the corner of his vision. Herakles put his pencil to paper.

_So, would you like to walk home with me?_

Kiku's lips curved upward. _I'd love to._

Surely, the school year started on Wednesday for this reason.

oOoOo

Kiku stared upward at the never-ending expanse of blue sky. He decided that he wasn't a fan of summer, and certainly not a fan when it creeped into the nice cool autumn. Luckily, he hadn't carried a jacket with him that day, so he wasn't forced to wear it in this heat nor stuff it in his backpack. He still wished, however, that late September would come sooner.

The soles of Kiku's shoes scraped against an old yellowed sidewalk, moving toward some unknown location that was an unknown distance away. Herakles walked beside him. Every so often, the sleepy boy would point one way or another, directing Kiku closer to his house. Otherwise, the only interaction between the two was an occasional sideways glance, sometimes accompanied by an awkward smile.

Kiku sighed through his nose. He wished it was easier to walk and write at the same time.

Out of the blue, Kiku felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked towards Herakles, who with his other hand was pointing towards the house to their left. For a moment, Herakle's brow creased, his face folding into a puzzled expression. Then, he made a motion towards himself before spelling out H-O-U-S-E with his fingers. Both of them started up the driveway of the Karpusi house, a smaller estate painted a light blue color. The paint had started to chip in a few places, to the point where it did not yet look old and grimy, but instead well-worn and comforting.

Herakles led him inside. The pair dropped their backpacks and shoes at the door before Herakles led Kiku to the kitchen. It was a small, white tiled room connected to the dining room, smelling of spices that Kiku couldn't identify. Herakles pulled our a chair for the smaller boy, fingerspelling out S-I-T. Kiku did as instructed.

Herakles left the room, presumably to get some art supplies, and hopefully a notebook.

Kiku, hands folded in his lap, squirmed in his seat as he often did in new places. One foot tapped against the tile beneath his feat. Kiku's eyes darted around the room, refusing to rest on any particular object. The walls were a nice light yellow color, decorated with paintings of places Kiku had never been. Whether they were Herakles' or something the family had bought, Kiku couldn't tell.

There was a nice vase of flowers in the center of the table, and-

God, why did Kiku care anyway? This wasn't what he was like normally. Normally, he would just sit there, and not squirm as much as he was doing now, and his foot would not tap, and he would entertain himself with one of the paintings on the wall, and he _would not care that there was a vase in front of him._

Something was wrong with him. He was far too nervous. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, and with all his might he demanded it to slow. It beat even faster.

Kiku wanted to slap was not because this is Herakles' house, he told himself. This was not because of Herakles.

Because friends do not make each other this nervous.

Paper slid into Kiku's vision, accompanied by two normal pencils and some thicker charcoal ones. Stacked on the table was two sketchpads and one normal notebook. Herakles moved into the seat next to Kiku, opening the notebook as he sat.

_Welcome to my house, _he wrote. _Do you want anything to drink?_

Kiku picked up the other graphite pencil; it was a Hello Kitty one. _Water would be nice, thank you._

_ Okay, _Herakles replied, and he stood up and made his way toward the kitchen.

Kiku stared, amused, at the pencil in his hand. A Hello Kitty pencil? Really? He knew Herakles liked cats, but still…

Herakles returned to the table, two glasses of water in his hand. Kiku looked back at the silly pink pencil again and laughed. _Herakles, _he wrote, _why do you have a Hello Kitty pencil?_

_ Because it's cute, _Herakles wrote, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Kiku let out at a small, airy laugh at the response.

_So, _Kiku began, turning his attention back to the matter at hand. _Would you like to model first, or should I?_

Herakles looked to the ceiling, thoughtful. _Depends. Are you going to paint or draw._

_ Paint._

Herakles' eyes danced around the room, landing just barely on each of the art supplies present. _Could you model first then? I'm going to draw, and since the supplies are already here, it'd be easier I guess. _His pencil trailed off as the sentence finished, drawing a long, squiggly line to the edge of the paper.

Kiku nodded. _That makes sense. _He shifted in his seat, pressing his lips together. _How do you want me?_

_ Straight on, _Herakles scribbled. Kiku swiveled his body towards him, taking a sip of water as he went. The wavy-haired boy gave a thumbs-up.

The two sat like that for a while, Kiku doing his best to not move or fidget in his seat and Herakles examining the smaller boy, occasionally making a mark on the paper. Kiku let his eyes follow Herakles' gaze, noting where he looked. He counted the seconds of how long his eyes traced the curve of his jaw, and observed the way he examined his eyes.

It was peaceful. Serene. Kiku liked it.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, fur brushed Kiku's ankle, startling him. He nearly jumped out of his chair. From across the table, Herakles' expression turned to one of confusion as Kiku ducked under the table. Making sure not to hit his head, he began searching for the owner of the fur.

And there, hiding behind the leg of the table, was a small, tabby cat.

Kiku bit his lip. It was just so… cute! The cat sauntered closer, golden eyes meeting Kiku's. He reached out to hold the creature, and it obviously didn't mind. It let Kiku scoop it up without any hassle. Kiku couldn't help but smile as he felt the cat's warmth against his own hands.

Bringing his head above the surface of the table, Kiku saw Herakles' expression change to one of understanding, and then to one of content. He reached over the table, carefully avoiding the drawing he had been working on, and wrote on the notepad. _His name is Zeus, 'cause he always thinks he's in charge._

Kiku, now stroking Zeus' fur, chuckled. He shifted the cat to one arm so he could write. _That's funny. Do you have any others?_

_ Yeah, there's 2 others. They're probably just hiding somewhere. They'll be out sooner or later._

_ What are their names? _

_ Demeter and Artemis._

Kiku smiled. _You named them all after Greek gods?_

Herakles shrugged, eyes filling with nostalgia. _It was my mother's idea. The names fit them pretty well. Artemis always brings me little 'gifts', and Demeter likes to play in the house plants._

_ Makes sense then. _Kiku shifted awkwardly in his seat. _By the way, where is your bathroom?_

_ Down the hall, _he wrote, pointing, _and to the left._

Kiku nodded, setting Zeus down on the floor as he did.

oOoOo

Kiku returned from- er -relieving himself, to find Herakles sitting where he was before, except for this time in the company of three cats. Zeus sat perched upon Herakles' dark hair, while a purely grey cat was nuzzled into his shoulder, and a calico sat in his lap. Herakles, sleepy eyes barely open, had a content smile on his face as he stroked the calico's fur. It was then that Kiku realized how much the house smelled like, well, cat. Herakles did not seem to mind, though.

Slowly, Kiku brought his phone out of his pocket, fumbling with the cool metal in his hands. He finally reached the setting he was looking for: the camera.

Bringing the screen to his eyes, he centered the frame so he found it visually appealing, and then pressed the nicely rounded 'OK' button.

There it was. The perfect portrait.

Luckily, Herakles had not noticed him as he took the portrait, so he slipped the phone back into the pocket. He drifted back to the table, where Herakles finally took notice of his presence. Herakles reached a hand forward. He grabbed his pencil, and wrote, _The grey one is Artemis and the calico is Demeter._

Kiku nodded. He tilted his head to the side, reaching out a tentative hand. Herakles turned towards Kiku, reaching his hands under Demeter's stomach as he went. He lifted up the small calico, offering her to Kiku, and Kiku (who was pleased that Herakles had understood what he meant) gladly took her from the taller boy's arms.

He leaned forward to steady the cat in his arms, nearly touching Herakles' shoulder in the process.

Kiku caught his scent.

And even though he quickly backed away, there was that feeling, deep in his stomach, wanting get even closer.

He sat in the chair nearest Herakles, letting Demeter curl in his lap while he stroked her soft hair. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest, his lips curving. upward. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Herakles, perfectly at peace, and silently wished moments like this could last forever.

* * *

><p><em>I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! As a side note, the names of Herakles' cats correlate with their respective godsgoddesses like this: Zeus is the king of the gods, Artemis is the goddess of the hunt, and Demeter is the goddess of the harvest._

_I'm going to try to be a good author and get the next update by the end of January. _

_Oh yeah, and reviewers get internet cookies. Happy New Years!_


	5. Chapter 5

_ Wow, this is a long chapter. My longest yet, actually. I'm really proud of it, both in length and content, and I hope you all like it as well! I know I promised it later, but I had too much time on my hands (via a long road trip). Not like it's a bad thing though._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon, Hetalia, or it's characters. All rights go to their respective __owners._

* * *

><p>Talking on Paper<p>

By IdiotFromOsaka

_"The heart has it's reasons which reason knows nothing of." ~Blaise Pascal_

After the first time, Herakles and Kiku visiting each others houses became some sort of routine. The two had developed an unspoken agreement between themselves: if neither had a lot of homework on any particular day, they would walk to one of their houses, presumably to work on the project.

Work, however, did not seem to want to be done. Kiku was only about half done with his painting at the time, and Herakles said that he was at about the same point on his drawing. (Kiku hadn't seen the portrait for himself yet; they both decided to keep the projects a secret from the other until they were completely finished.)

Kiku decided that the lack of progress was probably due to Herakles and himself taking a few too many breaks. And the fact that said breaks tended to turn into hour-long conversations about trivial things.

Kiku would be lying if he said didn't enjoy them, though.

It was approximately halfway into September now, and on this particular Wednesday, Kiku had invited Herakles to his home.

Both sat, cross-legged, on a familiar baby blue carpet that tickled Kiku's toes. Their backs leaned against the couch. Kiku wasn't quite sure why they had chosen this particular spot, or why they were on the ground instead of the couch, but Kiku noticed that Herakles seemed particularly comfortable on the carpet, with his shoulders hunched slightly over his knees and his fingers intertwining with the frayed woolen strands of the rug.

Kiku bent the dark green notebook in his hands. It was obvious that it wasn't new now. In fact, the notebook was at least one-fourth of the way filled. Impressive, considering that he hadn't owned it long. He blamed it on Herakles' large handwriting.

He opened the notebook, turning to the next clean page. Grabbing one of the pencils he had brought with him, he began to write.

_Well, welcome to my home. Do you want something to eat? _he asked, out of pure politeness.

Herakles grabbed the other pencil. _No thanks, I'm good. _He kept his pencil pressed to the paper as he looked back over his shoulder, towards their backpacks by the door. _One second, _he wrote. _I want to show you something._

With that, Herakles stood up and made his way to his own backpack, an worn blue-grey thing that wasn't quite falling apart- not yet at least. Kiku could see a couple of small holes where a pencil or pen or something had poked through. It, like everything that seemed surround Herakles Karpusi, was a bit imperfect, but well-loved and comforting at the same time.

Herakles returned with a somewhat thick white packet in his hands, rolled into a tube. He sat back down, taking his pencil back into his grasp as he did, and unrolled the papers.

Kiku, well, Kiku wasn't quite sure what to think. At the top of the first page, printed in bolded letters, were the words _American Sign Language 101._

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Herakles had begun to write in the notebook.

Kiku looked over, and began to read. _It's a sign language course at the community college that I'm going to take. I want it to be easier for us to talk, so I decided to sign up._

Kiku's chest swelled with warmth. He looked up at Herakles, such a sincere expression on his face, and could no longer contain the smile that had been building up in his cheeks.

In a moment of courage, he let his eyes lock with Herakles', and Kiku put a hand up to his own lips, just to pull it away. To some, it may have looked like he had blown a kiss, but Kiku knew the true meaning of the motion.

Herakles, head cocked, put his pencil to the notebook. _What's that mean?_

_ It mean's 'thank you'._

Herakles stared directly at Kiku now, brows creased slightly. _Why are you thanking me? _he wrote.

Kiku was still smiling (although he had pushed the smile into a much smaller state, without his teeth showing) as he pushed his bangs out of his line of vision. He could still feel _something_, something happy, warm, bubbling up inside of him. He gazed down at the words as he wrote. _No one's ever done something like this for me. So thank you._

Herakles almost looked stunned as he read Kiku's words, eyes a little wider than usual. But the expression soon faded into a small, close-lipped smile. _Well, you're welcome then._

There was a pause, a moment where they just sat and looked at each other, neither knowing quite what to say, but both content with just staring in each other's eyes. It wasn't awkward, not at all. It was comfortable; two people conversing without writing a word.

Kiku was the one to restart the conversation. _So, do you know what you're going to learn?_

_ Yeah, _Herakles replied, pulling the packet back in his direction. He pointed to the first square of a table in the center of the page. _This is what we're learning first._

Inside the square, in nice, arial print, were the words _Day One: Hello, Goodbye, Spelling, and Names._

To Kiku at least, it seemed like a good introductory lesson. Not incredibly complicated, and it seemed like Herakles knew most of it anyway.

_By the way, _Herakles began, _I've always wondered, isn't it hard having to spell out names every time?_

Kiku looked back at the wavy-haired boy in slight disbelief. Well, this was why he was taking the class, wasn't it?

_We don't do that, _Kiku corrected. _Well, not most of the time at least. We use name signs. They're… kind of like nicknames, in a way. _He looked up, finding a slightly confused Herakles, lips pressed together. _For example, my friend Feliciano has the sign for 'happy' for his name sign, because he's a very happy person, _he scribed, trying to explain._ And his brother's is the sign for 'punch' because he would always hit people when he was younger._

Herakles' eyes were a bit wider now, as he nodded. _I think I kinda get it now. What's your sign? (Also, do your friends go to our school? I'm not sure I've hear that name before.)_

To answer his first question, Kiku folded his fingers so they formed a K, and then brought the hand up to his ear, tapping the cartilage twice with his middle finger. He tried to do it a little slower than usual, hoping that Herakles would be able to follow. Herakles, staring intently as he did the motion, copied.

_'Kiku.'_

Kiku liked how it looked when Herakles did it.

He smiled, nodding in approval. He started writing. _And no, my friends don't go to our school. They live across town, so I don't see them too often, and even then…_

He immediately regretted those last few words. But it was far too late now, the words were written and Herakles had seen them. Erasing, no matter how little of the graphite was left, would do no good.

_What is it?_

Kiku looked up, letting his eyes meet Herakles'. Luckily, Herakles' eyes did not scream "Tell me!". Instead, with a flutter of his lashes, they whispered "You can tell me if you want to."

Kiku sighed, letting the warm air slip past his lips. _I just feel like a third wheel sometimes. All the time. I don't know._

As he wrote these words, Kiku realized something. He brought a hand to his head, running his fingers through his thin hair. He bit his lip. And then he wrote.

_I've never told anyone that before._

Herakles looked mildly surprised. _Never?_

_ Nope._

Herakles looked intently at him now. Kiku couldn't quite read his expression. Pity? Confusion? Then, one side of Herakles' lips indented, forming an almost-smile. _I'll tell you a secret then. So we're even. _Kiku did not see the logic behind this statement, but he went along with it anyway. _Up until this year, I didn't have anyone I could call a good friend. _There it was again. That pause. That moment. _And I've never told anyone that before._

Herakles looked down at Kiku, a grateful smile on his face. Kiku smiled back.

_Hey, Kiku._

_ Yes?_

_ What do you think my name sign would be?_

Kiku, who had actually been thinking about that question for a while, brought a hand up so it was in front of his face, fingertips facing him. Then, he moved the fingertips up and down without moving his wrist, like he was fanning himself.

_What's that mean?_

_ "Sleepy"._

They both laughed.

oOoOo

After a bit more time of writing back and forth, the pair finally convinced themselves that they needed to work. It was Herakles' turn to model. They set up at the kitchen table, with Herakles in one of the cherry-stained chairs so that Kiku saw his profile. Kiku had dragged out an old easel from the basement (with a little help), and set up his painting on the structure,

The painting looked pretty good, in Kiku's opinion. He had already put in a background, a soft, blue-green color, and most of Herakles' face was finished. He just had to add some highlights and shadows (the latter of which he had added some blue into, as he thought it reflected Herakles' personality nicely).

He picked up a brush. It was one of the thinest he owned, mostly used for detail. He dipped the small brush in a pool of white paint, then brushed the paint on the side of the paper plate he was using for mixing. He did the same with magenta and yellow, and even a bit of brown. Then a bit more white.

Kiku brushed a bit of the mixture on the canvas, right on the top of Herakles' cheeks. He moved the paint in an up-and-down motion, letting it mix in with the rest of the painting's colors. He added a bit more magenta.

Kiku looked towards the real Herakles now, focusing on his eyes. They were half open, emerald irises peeking out from under the lids. Kiku went back to mixing, attempting to create the perfect shade of green. Kiku wanted, if anything, to get the eyes perfect. You could see so much about Herakles by looking into his eyes.

Whoever said that the eyes were the windows to the soul was right.

There it was, Kiku thought as he finished adding a bit of white to the mixture. His chest swelled with joy from finding the correct color and putting it to canvas. He waited a bit after brushing it into the correct area, waiting for it to dry.

Kiku looked up once more, this time letting his eyes go to Herakles' hair. He allowed his gaze to trace every wave, every stray strand of hair. Kiku added a bit of highlighting to the hair in the painting.

He worked a bit longer, until he felt the face was almost finished.

His favorite part was the eyes.

As Kiku put the finishing stroke on Herakles' face, he moved his neck so that he looked past the easel. Herakles had fallen asleep. Well, it was probably time for a break anyway.

Kiku stood up and began to walk towards the sleeping boy, careful to avoid bumping into the easel. This part of the floor was wooden, cool against his feet. Not quite as cool as the tile in Herakles' house, but chilly all the same. Kiku stopped as he found himself right in front of Herakles. Even when sitting down, Herakles was fairly tall, Kiku barely a head taller than him. But Kiku was also rather short.

He squatted down, so that he was a bit below face-to-face with Herakles. They were an odd pair, Kiku thought, different in almost every aspect.

Herakles was tall where Kiku was short. Kiku's hair was straight while Herakles' was wavy. Herakles was tanned, and Kiku was pale. Herakles had a build, while Kiku was thin, bony. And then there was personality. Herakles was a dreamer, Kiku could tell. He did not mind spending his days sleeping. Behind that quiet, sleepy demeanor, Kiku could see a busy mind, okay with being separate from reality.

Kiku wasn't like that. He tried to keep himself grounded in the real world, alert. Sure, he was a thinker. But his mind wasn't separate from reality.

He envied Herakles Karpusi.

But it seemed that they made a good pair.

In the friendship sense, that is.

It was then that Kiku realized how close he was to Herakles. It unnerved him a bit, but he also didn't really care. It almost felt... nice. Kiku lifted up a single hand, bringing his bony fingers closer to the sleeping boy's face. It was so easy, to just reach out and touch him. So simple. So he did.

Kiku could feel his hand jitter slightly as the pads of his fingers brushed against Herakles' cheek. He let himself caress his face, running his fingers over his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, his lips...

It'd be so easy, just to reach out and kiss them-

No. Nonononono. Kiku quickly pulled his hand away, like he had just touched a burning stove. He stood up and backed away from Herakles.

He shouldn't think like that. He _couldn't _think like that.

Kiku rested a harsh hand on Herakles' shoulder, thanking every god he knew of that Herakles was a deep sleeper. He shook the boy awake.

oOoOo

The two, after Kiku had announced that he was about done for the day, decided to hang out for a bit longer, with Kiku doing his best to forget forget forget and Herakles being absolutely oblivious. They wrote back and forth, about trivial things: teachers, weather, books, mythology (they both agreed that the Ancient Greeks did it best), cats, food, places they had never been.

And during that time, Kiku could not help but feel completely content.

They were currently discussing the pros and cons of going to Australia (both agreed it could get pretty hot, but it might be worth it to see the reefs), when Herakles, about to write, lifted his head up swiftly, tilted toward the door. Kiku looked past the other boy. There was a woman in the doorway now.

Kiku's mother. Her eyes met her son's, and she signed, _'Hello, Kiku. How was your day? Is this your friend?'_

Kiku signed back. _'Hello. My day was good. This is my friend, H-E-R-A-K-L-E-S, _he told her, and then customarily showed her Herakles' sign name.

Kiku picked up his pencil once more, jotting a note to the other boy. _Herakles, this is my mother. _

Herakles, sleepy as ever, blinked twice, then nodded. He looked back at the woman, a petite lady with dark, shoulder-length hair and tired eyes. He stood up, extending a hand, and Ms. Honda smiled, small wrinkles appearing on her face.

Kiku watched from his place on the rug as the two clasped their hands together and shook. Herakles' lips moved, the corners of said lips pulled into a slight smile. His mother's lips moved in response, but in a slightly different manner and for a longer period.

_'So,' _Ms. Honda began to sign, moving her lips along with her hands, _'Have you two gotten some work done on your project?'_

Herakles and Kiku shared a sidelong glance. _'Yes, a little,' _Kiku responded, noticing that his mother had begun interpreting. _'We're just talking now.'_

HIs mother sent a curious glance in Kiku's direction, eyes falling on the open notebook in front of him. _'On paper?' _Her eyebrows were raised slightly as she moved her hands. Both boys nodded. Ms. Honda smirked in reply, nodding her head. _'Clever.'_

She set her purse on the kitchen table as she walked further into the house, taking her heels off as she went. She entered the kitchen, making her way to the refrigerator. She opened the door. Kiku shivered at the blast of cold air.

_'Would you like to stay for dinner, Herakles?' _Ms. Honda asked politely, eyes scanning through the shelves of the refrigerator as she signed.

_'Sorry, I can't,' _Herakles replied. Kiku sighed a little as he noticed how far apart Herakles and his mother were. Reminded him of art class. He looked back to Herakles after his mother finished signing, trying to pick up his expression. _'I have to go to my job.'_

Kiku was slightly dumbstruck at the statement. He couldn't quite picture Herakles Karpusi, possibly the laziest person on the face of the earth, with a job. Well, at least a job that didn't involve cats. (He could quite easily picture Herakles working at a pet store, only to stay where the cats were kept all day.)

Kiku decided to ask. _'What job do you have?'_

Herakles' mouth opened, and Kiku's gaze quickly returned to his mother. _'I just got a job at that little gyro shop on 93rd street.' _When he looked back, Herakles had gathered his stuff. A dull wooden pencil stuck out of one of his backpack's holes.

_'Okay, see you tomorrow then?'_

Herakles nodded, lips forming into a soft smile. He opened the door, walking backwards for a couple steps so he could wave goodbye. Pulling the other strap of his backpack over his shoulder, he turned around, still smiling as he went.

The door closed.

Kiku looked back to his mother, who had pulled out a bag of frozen noodles from the freezer. She dropped them on he kitchen's island and began to sign to Kiku.

_'You decided to call him 'sleepy'?' _she asked, smiling playfully.

Kiku shrugged. _'It fits.'_

oOoOo

Kiku yawned as he stretched out his legs, his toes grabbing the folds of his bedsheets. He liked the feeling of the crisp sheets against his feet. The thought didn't last long in his head, however, as his attention immediately returned to the small screen in front of him.

He grasped his Nintendo DS tighter. A random trainer (some Pokémon breeder or something) had spotted him, and now he was forced into a battle. Kiku had never quite gotten the logic of this, but he supposed it did help build up HP and experience. Luckily, Kiku had just recently stocked up on potions and revives, so he was ready for just about anything.

Real-world Kiku found that he had slipped pretty far down on his pillow, so he dug his elbows into his mattress and pushed himself up.

Kiku's bedroom was a rather normal place. There was a bed, with a solid red duvet and white sheets, diagonal from a wooden desk in the corner. The walls were completely blue, and from them hung a couple posters (mostly ones with characters from various animes). There was a bookshelf beside the desk, filled with everything from books to video games to small knick-knacks that Kiku had picked up.

Kiku Honda was, admittedly, a bit of an otaku.

He smirked at the screen. The other trainer only had one Pokémon, and it happened to be a fire-type. Luckily for Kiku, his strongest monster was a water-type. His opponent was out with one hit.

Virtual Kiku, now with a bit more money, along with experience, wandered away from the defeated trainer and towards a mansion. There were no trainers on the way, and his mind began to wander.

He thought of that day. He though of school, of homework. But mostly, he thought of Herakles.

Kiku thought of his eyes. They were beautiful, in Kiku's opinion. Magnetic, almost. And his smile- never overbearing or energy filled (the thought reminded him of a certain Feliciano Vargas), but calm. Sweet. Kiku liked the way it looked when Herakles signed his name, he liked how he was always a little unsure when he finger-spelled. He liked how they could go back and forth for hours.

Kiku stopped, nearly dropping his DS. The words felt a lot more familiar than they should.

Hadn't Feliciano said something similar when he had told Kiku of his crush on Ludwig?

And hadn't Ludwig said something similar when he told Kiku that he had a crush on Feliciano?

Kiku's brow furrowed. He couldn't deal with this at the moment. He turned his attention back to the game.

Virtual Kiku had found his way into the central 'garden' of the mansion, which was basically a patch of tall grass surrounded by the mansion's walls. He had been wandering in a circle for about three minutes now. He knew that this area was home to some rare Pokémon, and was hoping to catch one, maybe two.

Suddenly, the screen changed. Kiku knew that it meant battle. In one grassy circle was his starting monster, a flying-type, and the first he had ever caught. From the other, a figure sprung up out of the ground. A wild… Pikachu?

Kiku frowned. He knew he was at a disadvantage here. Most of the monsters in his crew would do terribly against an electric-type, but still…

He may never get this chance again.

Kiku let out a heavy sigh, harshly shutting the controller. He couldn't take this. Real life was confusing enough, his virtual life didn't need to be too.

Setting the DS on his bedside table, Kiku turned off his lamp. He just wanted to roll up in his sheets now. He wanted to dream. He wanted to _forget. _

However, his thoughts would not let him rest. Because every time he closed his eyes, his brain liked to remind him that his feelings towards Herakles didn't seem exactly platonic. That his thoughts sounded an awful lot like what Ludwig and Feliciano had said. That his actions earlier were _not at all _like what a friend would do, and-

_Shit._

Kiku had never been one to cuss, not even to himself, but he felt the word was appropriate in his current situation.

Because _shit shit shit shit shit._

He had a crush on Herakles Karpusi.

* * *

><p><em>And there we go! I have to say, I think this is my favorite chapter so far. Mostly because it contains a couple scenes I've been waiting quite a while to write. And the introduction of Ms. Honda. (Yes, there's a reason why she's a Ms. All will be explained soon enough.) By the way, she's just an OC, not a nation.<em>

_ A couple notes: That feeling of joy that Kiku gets from mixing the right color? It happens, not making it up. I paint, and it happens to me all the time. Let me tell you, that feeling is awesome._

_ The game that Kiku is playing (with the exception of a few details) is Pokémon Diamond. Or Pearl. They're basically the same thing, so take your pick. That mansion actually exists, and does indeed have a garden that is all tall grass with a bunch of Pikachus. Pikachus, while rather well known, are extremely hard to find in that game._

_ As for which types of Pokémon are good against which types… I'm too lazy to write it all out, so if you really want to know, Google it. (If you haven't noticed by now, yes, I have a minor obsession with Pokémon.)_

_ Well, that's all for now! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm going to try to update by mid-February at the latest. _

_P.S. I'd love to know what you guys think about this chapter (and the story in general), so reviews are very welcome._


	6. Chapter 6

_ Hello everyone! I apologize for the slight lateness of this chapter, but, as you can see, it's really really long. Well, for me at least. It's this story's longest chapter- over 5000 words. I still can't believe I wrote that much. I really love this chapter though, and hopefully you guys will too._

_ A couple things: Firstly, thank you for all the reviews! Seriously, I love you guys so much. If I could give you all hugs, I would. Secondly, a couple times in this chapter, Kiku mentions the frame of his canvas. This doesn't refer to a picture frame, but instead the wooden frame that the canvas fabric is wrapped around._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or it's characters. All rights go to their respective owners._

Talking on Paper

By IdiotFromOsaka

_"In our life there is a single color, as on an artist's palette, which provides the meaning of life and art. It is the color of love." ~Marc Chagall_

* * *

><p>Kiku gazed out across the horizon, marveling at the sight. The sun had sunk low in the afternoon sky, it's golden fingertips gently touching everything in view. The trees were still mostly green now, but, occasionally, Kiku could spot a warm-colored leaf riddled in the mess. The rest would change color soon, he knew, but there were always a few leading the pack, being themselves and not caring what the other leaves thought.<p>

Kiku sifted a few fingers through his hair, lifting his gaze away from the horizon and to the figure beside him. A certain Herakles Karpusi pulled his backpack a little higher up on his shoulders.

Kiku examined him a little closer; the up and down of his chest as he breathed, the outline of his jaw. Kiku pulled his eyes away, tugging the hood of his jacket closer to his neck. A sad attempt to hide his reddened cheeks.

He held his painted canvas a little tighter. Despite what every calendar said, Kiku still couldn't believe that it was the end of September. Well, more precisely, he didn't _want _it to be the end of September. Because the end of September meant that, soon, the painting he held firmly in his hand would be given a grade, and it'd be hung on his school's wall for all to see.

It meant the end of these little excursions.

As much as Kiku hated to admit it, he'd come to enjoy Herakles' presence over the course of a month. Filling up that dark green notebook, hands decorated with charcoal and paint, soft smiles and bits of sign language, they were part of his routine now. Kiku liked routine.

He also liked Herakles.

He'd admitted it now. The confession sat in the pit of his stomach, heavy. Kiku didn't like the idea of love (but it wasn't love, he told himself, just a silly little crush). Love was unpredictable, uncontrollable, and unreliable. It wasn't like a video game. It wasn't the same every time you replayed. You couldn't just erase your data, start over. That scared him.

Kiku prayed that these strange little butterflies in his stomach would fade, and soon.

Kiku was now incredibly aware of the the presence beside him, lazy steps walking in time with his own. Kiku's heart sped up, just a little. He'd tried his best to keep his feelings locked in a tight little box, but it took effort.

Herakles was simply too easy to fall for.

Kiku's thoughts were halted as he felt a large hand fall upon his shoulder. He turned his head, eyes falling on Herakles. The boy had backed up a few steps now, eyes focused on the branches above them as he held up a pointer finger in Kiku's direction. Bending his knees slightly, Herakles jumped, one hand outstretched towards the trees. He landed with a satisfied smile,

In his hands he twirled a perfectly yellow leaf. Herakles lifted his head, letting his gaze meet Kiku's, and then extended his hand.

Kiku cocked his head, puzzled by the action. He glanced down at the leaf, then to Herakles, letting their lines of sight meet. The taller boy nodded his head. His hand, still trapping the heart-shaped leaf within his grasp, motioned towards Kiku.

Perhaps, Kiku thought, he was offering it?

He decided to test the hypothesis, bringing an unsure hand to the same height as Herakles'. Carefully, Kiku grasped the tip of the leaf and pulled it towards himself. The corners of Herakles' lips rose, just a little.

Kiku looked up. He stared at Herakles incredulously as he spun the leaf in his hand. The piece of brush left a cool feeling against his skin.

Herakles, using the bit of sign language he had learned so far, brought his hands up and began to sign.

_'Gift. For you.'_

Kiku tilted his head, sending Herakles a confused sort of smile. But then he laughed, nodding, and grasped the golden leaf a little tighter.

Strange, that's what Herakles was.

Beautifully strange.

oOoOo

So. There they were.

Herakles and Kiku sat silently, bodies embraced by the leather of the Karpusi couch. Even through the fabric of his shirt, Kiku could feel the roughness of the leather. It was old, and decorated with scratches just large enough to belong to a cat.

The nervous tension could barely be cut with a knife.

Kiku stared straight ahead, towards the fireplace. He couldn't look down, not at the painting in his hands. He couldn't look right, not towards the kitchen that held too many memories. And there was absolutely no way he was looking left. Towards an equally nervous Herakles, fiddling with the black paper backing his drawing, which he'd just retrieved from his bedroom.

Absolutely no way.

Kiku could feel his own nervousness deep in his bones, making his arms fidget, his toes tap. But for the life of him, he couldn't figure out where it was stemming from. The most obvious answer, the one an outsider could see, was that he was scared about was Herakles would think of his painting. That was true, yes. But it wasn't all. There had to be more to this.

Kiku began to drum his fingers on the canvas' frame.

Maybe it was because Kiku knew, as did Herakles, that this was the end. After this, there was no excuse to be together every day of the week. Could that be it?

Or perhaps it was the position of their hands. Kiku's and Herakles' hands laid side by side, only centimeters away from each other. There was no reason to have them this close together. So close, so easy to reach over a finger, to touch…

Kiku's heart pumped faster as he suddenly became a bit too aware of the position of his hands. He didn't move them.

Probably, though, it was a mixture of all three.

Kiku had to wonder, did Herakles feel this nervous right now?

Giving into temptation, Kiku pulled his eyes away from the hearth, slowly gathering courage to look at the other boy. Herakles looked down, wriggling his toes and playing with the corner of the paper backing his artwork. A small smile danced on his lips, but his eyes weren't in it. That perfect shade of green seemed a little more blue today.

Kiku let go of his canvas, letting it rest against his knees, and brought the hand that once held it up to his face. _'Herakles,' _he signed, hoping that the other boy had caught the movement in his peripheral vision. Herakles blinked once, then twice, before he raised his head, eyes gliding to meet Kiku's. He sent a sort of half-smile to the shorter boy, chapped lips refusing to reveal his teeth.

Herakles zipped open the backpack at his feet, pulling out a notebook, a red one. Not the one that they normally used (Kiku had forgotten that one at home), but a brand new spiral, one that had not yet been nearly torn apart by overuse. With it, he pulled out a pencil.

Flipping to the first page, Herakles began to write.

_You ready? _The question danced in Herakles' eyes.

Kiku had regained his grip on his painting. Was he ready? Well, probably not. Something churned in his chest, a feeling of unease, that something wan't quite finished, that it wasn't quite good enough. But, said the rational side of Kiku's brain, Herakles would end up seeing it anyway. So he might as well get it over with, right?

Squeezing the frame a little tighter, Kiku nodded. He tried to ignore the fervent beating his chest and pull his lips into a smile.

_Okay, I'll count down from 3 and then we'll show each other at the same time, _Herakles scribbled. Zeus and Demeter had found their way to their owner, gathering at his ankles and purring. Herakles passed the pencil to Kiku.

_That's fine._

Kiku set the notebook and the pencil on the wooden coffee table before him, and then turned to Herakles. He gripped his painting so hard he thought it might break, but it was the only thing keeping his hands from shaking right now.

Herakles brought a hand up to his chest, only his thumb and pinky finger tucked in.

Three.

Two.

One.

Go.

Both boys flipped their artwork, holding it up for the other to see. Kiku almost wanted to close his eyes, so he could hide himself from whatever expression appeared on Herakles' face. But he didn't. And that was likely a good thing.

He was met with two amazing sights.

The first was Herakles' drawing. The portrait was drawn in charcoal, capturing Kiku in the center of the page. Shadows were softly brushed around his countenance, not too dark but not too light either. Small traces of white charcoal decorated the highlights of his face, his hair, his eyes. Only where the white was it's whitest. It was almost like looking into a black-and-white mirror. Herakles had captured his essence nearly perfectly; every thing from shape of his face to the curve of his cheekbones to the small, polite smile drawn on his face. The background wasn't exempt. Etched into the charcoal paper were swirling tendrils, almost resembling waves. They danced around the space, in no particular pattern, framing Kiku's features.

To say Kiku was awestruck would be and understatement.

The second sight was Herakles himself. Herakles stared at Kiku's painting, a beautiful yet odd expression on his face. Beautiful because of the way his eyes were widened, his lips parted, his eyebrows slightly raised. Odd, because Kiku hadn't seen Herakles wear that expression before.

Then, Herakles' eyes met Kiku's, and Herakles smiled a small little smile, lips parting to show his teeth. Kiku smiled back.

Kiku grabbed the notebook and pencil from the coffee table, hurriedly opening to the first, no, the second page. He brought the pencil to paper, dragging the graphite so it formed letters, then words.

He held up the notebook when he finished.

_It's beautiful._

Herakles smiled a bit wider as he took the notebook into his own hands.

_You think? _he wrote, the smile on his lips dancing in his eyes. Any hint of sadness was gone now, or at least diluted to the point where it was unseeable. _I like yours better._

Kiku signed back, _'Thank you,' _because he knew how Herakles loved any opportunity to practice. He took the notebook back.

_I really like yours, though. It looks like me. And the background is beautiful._

Herakles shrugged his shoulders. _I remembered what you told be about wanting to see the ocean. And I think that Kiku and the ocean mesh well._

Kiku looked up at the taller boy, taking in his sincere smile, the light blush that covered his cheeks.

_I can't believe you remember that._

_ Well, you kind of remind me of the ocean, I guess. So I think of that conversation when I think of you._

Kiku looked down at the words, then up to Herakles, then back to the words. An utterly teenage-girl-esque thought popped into his head.

He was thinking about him?

Kiku shook the thought out of his head and decided to pose a question that wasn't incredibly awkward and stupid.

_Why do I remind you of the ocean?_

Well, not _quite _as incredibly awkward and stupid.

Herakles caressed the loose-leaf paper in his hands, using his thumb to stroke the rough edges. His eyes studied the soft blue lines, and then the words on them. Suddenly, he looked up, and Kiku's gaze met his. Kiku's heart pulsed faster at his small, sheepish smile. Color flooded his face as Herakles scribbled characters onto the paper.

_You seem so calm and beautiful from afar, but you're also really full of mysteries… and I don't you're the type of person I'd like to see angry._

Kiku stared at the words in disbelief.

_You're not supposed to call boys beautiful, _he wrote.

_Says who?_

The question was so simple, so innocent, so… _Herakles, _that Kiku could do nothing to keep his lips from pulling into a tiny smile. Kiku was pretty sure that the other boy was aware of that bit of social etiquette, but simply chose to ignore it. Herakles tilted his head, mess of wavy hair falling to the side as he did.

Kiku simply shook his head, a small laugh escaping his lips.

Herakles dismissed the action, instead turning his attention to Kiku's painting. With his less-dominate hand, he reached up and let his fingers trail along the outside of the canvas, admiring the work. He pressed his lips together.

_I like how you included Zeus and everyone, _he wrote, strokes of graphite light on the page. _You even got all of the markings right._

Kiku leaned forward a little to see the painting, even though he knew what it looked like. It was nearly the same photo that he had taken several weeks ago. Herakles' profile was painted delicately onto the right side of the canvas, complete with sleepy green eyes and unkempt hair. Zeus, Demeter, and Artemis had all found a place to rest on their master, brush-stoke fur shining in the painted light. Kiku found the picture perfect- not because he painted it, though. He, like every artist, always thought that it was missing _something _(but, like every artist, he didn't fix it out of fear of ruining what he already had).

It was perfect because of how…. _Herakles _it was.

(In the dictionary of Kiku's mind, Herakles was now officially both a noun and an adjective.)

_Thank you, _Kiku wrote, despite how easily he could've signed it. _I thought it suited you._

Herakles cocked his head. _In what way? _His eyes did not hold confusion, but instead an invitation.

_Well, you like cats, and you're also somewhat cat-like. _It was only after he'd written them that Kiku realized how much the words mirrored Herakles'.

Herakles read the words, then looked up. He tilted his head to the side, raising his eyebrows as he did, as if asking 'Why's that?'

_Because, _Kiku answered, _you seem to enjoy being by yourself, you sleep a lot, and you're also very smart. _

_ And cute, _part of him wanted to add. He resisted the urge.

_Cats and the ocean usually don't get along well, _Herakles scribbled. By now, Zeus and Demeter had found their way to their owner's shoulders.

_I suppose we're an exception._

Their eyes met, and Kiku almost didn't notice how Herakles lifted his hand from it's place beside Kiku's. Not until Herakles' fingers slipped between his own.

And against all logic, against the knowing knowing knowing that it was just a crush and it would pass soon, Kiku didn't pull away.

He adjusted his hand so their fingers intertwined more comfortably, but nothing more.

For the next few hours, they just sat there, completely content in each other's company. They talked about nothing, and they also talked about everything. All the while, Kiku tried to ignore the growing warmth in his chest.

The only reason he decided to leave was a text from his mother, telling him that he needed to come home if he wanted any dinner. Not wanting to disrespect his mother, Kiku complied, and the pair was forced to say their goodbyes.

Slowly, Herakles relinquished Kiku's hand.

Walking home, Kiku admired autumn's perfect temperature, feeling refreshed as the cool breeze played in his hair. The sun began to set, painting gold across the landscape. It felt like the scenery was rejoicing, dancing with light and color. Everything, even the small graveyard he passed, had become beautiful.

Kiku decided he'd like to paint such a scene.

oOoOo

Per usual, Kiku went to school the next day.

Kiku had always liked the fact that he had art class at the end of the day. Especially after long days, filled with far too many projects and pages of homework to do, it was nice that he was given a small slot of time to simply _relax. _He could do nothing but draw, paint, and talk to Herakles. He didn't have to worry about anything for once.

Well, except for today of course.

Today happened to be the day when Kiku, Herakles, the whole class, had to present their projects to everyone. Kiku was dreading it.

It wasn't that he wasn't proud of his painting- he was. It had turned out well, and Herakles had liked it. That was all that _really _mattered.

But there was that lingering problem of Kiku's nervousness, the type that only stemmed from talking in front of large groups of people. People… stared. Well, that was probably normal. It was the way that they stared that Kiku didn't like. It was as if they were judging him, trying to put him into a little box that they could wrap their mind around. It'd be even worse when they had a painting to judge as well.

Polite claps didn't make him feel any better.

However, there was a small sort of relief in the fact that everyone else had to present their projects as well, whether they were completely comfortable in front of crowds or hated it with a passion.

Kiku almost felt guilty.

Herakles, through some form of magic, arrived to the classroom before Kiku that afternoon. He was already collapsed on the table when Kiku arrived, head rested peacefully on his arms and breathing lazy breaths. His drawing rested against the legs of his chair.

Kiku couldn't help but smile a little. It was a common sight, to walk in and see a resting Herakles, or for him to walk in and succumb to sleep as soon as his legs hit the chair.

Kiku had to wonder, was Herakles as nervous as he was?

Knowing Herakles, probably not. Or if he was, he wouldn't show it.

Kiku pulled out a chair for himself, setting down his books on the dusty table. The wobbling of the table did nothing to wake Herakles, his eyes still closed. Kiku, although a little unsure about waking the other boy up, reached out a hand and placed it on Herakles' shoulder. Gently, he shook him awake.

Herakles' eyes fluttered open. For a moment, he looked a little dazed, but smiled when he locked gazes with Kiku. He raised a hand.

_'Hi,' _Herakles signed. _'How are you?'_

_ 'Good,' _Kiku replied. _'How are you?'_

Herakles yawned, bringing a hand up to eye-level. _'Sleepy.' _Kiku couldn't help but laugh a little.

_'You're always sleepy,' _he remarked, a smile playing on his lips. Herakles shrugged. Casually, he leaned under the table and unzipped his backpack, pulling out a slightly damaged red spiral and two pencils. He flipped to the next available page.

_So, are you ready? _Herakles wrote.

Kiku wasn't, but he didn't plan on telling Herakles this. _I suppose._

Herakles smiled softly at him, nodding as he lifted his eyes off the paper. Lazily, he surveyed the room. _What do you think everyone else's portraits will look like?_

It was a good question, Kiku decided. The assignment was to create a portrait the captured both a person's looks and personality, so the drawings and paintings were destined to hold quite a bit of individual charm. Not only would the papers and canvases be filled with the artist's own style, but the figures captured within them would show who the subjects were- their likes, dislikes, temperaments, eccentricities.

Surely, they would be more interesting than normal portraits.

Cautiously, Kiku stole a glance at the boy to his left; Alfred Jones, a blonde, bespectacled ball of energy whose mouth liked to move at a mile-a-minute pace. Beside him was a certain Arthur Kirkland, a thin blonde boy with harsh green eyes and eyebrows that were a bit too big.

_Well, Alfred's style is more modern, _Kiku wrote, drawing the observation from the several art classes he'd shared with the boy. _He'll probably draw his partner in a cartoonish style._

_ And Arthur is more classical. It'll be interesting to see how theirs turn out._

_ Yes, I'm looking forward to it._

Herakles rolled his shoulders backward as he lifted his head. _Yao likes water colors, so he'll probably do something with that. Don't know who his partner is though._

Kiku tried to sit a little taller, as to see who was sitting beside Yao. No one, actually. The plastic chair was empty. But it didn't seem as if the bell had rung yet, so whoever it was wasn't late yet.

Students began to settle into their seats as Mrs. Tanner strode to the front of the room.

Well, now they were.

Herakles, seemingly taking notice of class starting, wrote a small, final note on the lined paper.

_I guess we'll know soon. _And his lips curled into smile so contagious that Kiku couldn't help but mirror it. He nodded a reply and closed the notebook.

When he looked up, it appeared that he'd already missed a bit of class. Mrs. Tanner's jaw moved up and down and up and down as she stood at the front of the classroom, talking as much with her hands as she was with her mouth. She seemed to be a bit more energetic than usual, filled with almost as much enthusiasm as she had on the first day of school.

Kiku looked to Mrs. Lacey a few feet away from her.

_'So, I hope everyone is ready to share their projects today!' _Half the class deflated in their seats, not unlike popped balloons, while to other half sat a little straighter. Mrs. Tanner flipped a piece of blonde hair behind her shoulder. _'It won't be hard or anything, I promise. You and your partner just need to come up here, show your art, and say a little bit about how your partner's personality is in it. Okay? Nod at me like I just made sense.' _The class nodded.

_'Okay then!' _Mrs. Tanner said, practically skipping up to her desk. She walked around it and climbed into a large swivel chair, clasping her hands as she sat. _'We'll start at the front of the room. Yao?'_

And so it began.

The presentations went basically as Kiku and Herakles had predicted; Yao used watercolors to capture his partner, who turned out to be an annoying Asian boy named Yong Soo who once sat by Kiku in math class. He was home sick. Alfred painted, in a rather stylistic manner that didn't really represent his partner. Arthur did a much better job.

With each little detail that Herakles and Kiku had predicted, the pair glanced knowingly at each other, trying to hide their smiles.

Kiku tried to keep his mind distracted, trying not to think of the fact that there were only 3- 2- 1- groups left until his turn, but after the people beside them went there was no more room for denial. Softly, Kiku sighed. It was their turn.

Grudgingly, Kiku reached for his painting on the floor. He thought of what to do- don't ramble, don't your hands shake, don't say anything stupid, don't look the audience in the eyes, think of something the makes you comfortable, think of the painting, think of _Herakles. _

Herakles always managed to worm himself in there, didn't he?

Kiku and Herakles stood, Kiku shooting the other boy a cautious glance. Herakles didn't _seem _too nervous, if the somewhat calm expression on his face was anything to go by. Herakles caught his gaze and smiled reassuringly. He was playing with the corner of his drawing again.

They walked, side by side, to the front of the room. Kiku tightly grasped the frame of his painting, fingernails attempting to dig into the pale wood, as if it would in someway calm himself down. He'd get splinters if he kept this up much longer. Almost reaching the board, they stopped.

Out of Kiku's lips spilled a deep sigh, having escaped from the constrains of Kiku's tight ribcage. Now, who would go first? Kiku straightened his shoulders a bit, and prayed that Herakles would take the initiative and _speak. _

Luckily for Kiku, the perceptive-as-ever Herakles opened his mouth. Something released Kiku's chest, filling him with absolute relief as he turned to Mrs. Lacey. His hands held his painting a little more loosely.

_'Well,' _the older woman signed,_ 'the way I included parts of Kiku's personality in this painting is by drawing him with an expression he wears a lot.' _He didn't mention the ocean, Kiku noted. He supposed it was their little inside joke now. (They had inside jokes? Had they really known each other that long?)

Mrs. Lacey's hands ceased to move, and Kiku took it that it was his turn to present. He set his painting down at his feet so that it rested on his shins and secretly prayed it wouldn't fall during during his time presenting.

As his hands began to move and his interpreters lips opened, Kiku stole a glance at Herakles.

A knowing nod and a reassuring smile was all he needed.

_'I let parts of Herakles' personality show in this painting by painting him with his cats, because they are his favorite animal.' _Apprehension having lessened, Kiku's gaze slid over the audience, seeing them but not really looking. _'And I also used cooler colors to show his calm personality.' _He didn't mention Herakles' cat-like personality. (An inside joke, right?)

As his hands stopped moving, the students brought their hands together and clapped a few times, out of pure politeness and social etiquette.

Beside him, Herakles' face had pulled into an amused grin. As he reached down to grab his painting, Kiku sent him a questioning look. Had he said something stupid?

Together, they marched back to their seats. Kiku's hands barely held the frame of the canvas, and it loosely swung back and forth as they walked. When they reached their chairs, Herakles quickly reached for the closed spiral that still laid in the center of the table. Skipping to the next blank page as he sat, Herakles scribbled something between the faded blue lines.

_I could understand some of what you signed. _Suddenly things made a bit more sense. Herakles was practically beaming with pride, his eyes a bit brighter than earlier. Kiku would be lying if he said he wasn't a bit happy as well.

_Really? _he wrote. _Which words?_

Herakles bit his lip, and his eyes rolled upward in thought. Then, he brought up a hand to about collarbone level, positioning it so it was straight up and down, the side of his palm facing Kiku. With his other hand, he brushed his fingers back and forth against his palm.

_'Painting.'_

Kiku nodded, wanting to see more.

Herakles moved one hand up to his nose, his forefinger and thumb forming an open circle while the rest of his fingers stood up. As he reached the side of his nostril, he closed the circle and quickly pulled away, outward.

_'Cat.'_

Kiku chuckled a little. Of course Herakles knew _that._

Herakles' hands moved back down to his chest again, this time with his fingers slightly curled in towards his ribcage and his thumbs sticking out. His hands were positioned on the far edges of opposite sides of his chest. Somewhat slowly, he moved them inward, towards his sternum, then outward again. He repeated the motion once more.

_'Animal. And,' _he signed, _'color.' _Herakles brought a hand up to his chin, fingers outstretched, and fluttered the fingertips.

Kiku smiled in response, his chest flooding with a kind warmth. Herakles was doing so well._ 'Very good,' _he praised. Herakles' smile widened a little at the motion.

Kiku picked up a pencil from the table before him and pressed it to the notebook. _You're getting very good, _he wrote._ Is your class fun?_

_Yeah, the teacher is nice and I learn a lot._

Kiku nodded. _That's always good. _Herakles dipped his head in response. There was a small moment where their hands were still and the paper was empty and Herakles' lips softened into something that wasn't a frown but wasn't quite a smile either. In a sudden spurt of movement, Herakles lifted a hand to his ear.

_'Kiku.' _Kiku's eyes grew a little wider and his eyebrows raised, as if asking _'Yes?'_. Herakles began to scribble on the paper before him. _We can still hang out, right? Even though the project's over?_

Kiku's heart beat a little faster in his chest, and he felt a bit of blood rush to his cheeks. Was Herakles really worried about such a thing? The answer was obvious, and was written immediately. _Of course. We're friends, right? _(Friends, he told himself. Friends friends friends.)

The corners of Herakles' mouth pulled upward. _Yeah, _he scribbled in his large, clumsy handwriting. _Do you want to hand out this weekend?_

_ I'm sorry, I have a project to work on this weekend. _Herakles' smile faltered. _Another time?_

Herakles nodded, lips having curled upward again but his eyes still a little dull. _Sure, another time._

Kiku's heart hurt, just a little, from seeing that expression. But he shook the feeling away, instead turning his head back to the front of the room. The final partners had begun to walk back to their seats. Had they really been talking that long?

Mrs. Tanner's mouth opened, and his eyes flitted to Mrs. Lacey. _'Okay, great job everyone! Bell's about to ring, so just remember to drop off your art at the front of the room before you leave, okay?' _The rest of the class began to pack their bags, beginning to open and close their mouths as they did. Then, everyone started to stand up, flocking towards the door.

Kiku and Herakles followed suit, Herakles taking the notebook and slipping it into his backpack. _'See you later,' _he signed, pulling his backpack up onto his shoulders. Kiku waved in response, and Herakles strolled to the front of the room.

Kiku wasn't far behind, stacking his painting on a small cart, right on top of Herakles' drawing. He had started for the doorway when a sheet of paper flew into his vision.

The thin parchment was captured between the fingers of a certain Mrs. Tanner, smiling a sunny smile. The teacher looked up at him from her desk, expectantly. Did she want him to take the paper?

From the way it looked, probably.

Kiku took the paper into his own hands and Mrs. Tanner smiled, turning back to whatever she was working on before.

It appeared to be… a flyer?

At the top of the page, in bold lettering, was the name of some art contest- but what Kiku first noticed was, at the top of the paper, a couple lines of loopy handwriting.

_Kiku, _it wrote. _I learned about this contest a couple weeks back and thought one of my students might be interested. Your painting was really great, so I thought you might want to enter. Just let me know on Monday if you're interested! _

Kiku began to take slow steps toward the door, eyes scanning the rest of the page.

It was a painting competition, for high school students in his area. First prize was five hundred dollars, second was two hundred, and third one hundred. It wasn't the money that drew him in, though. First prize got their art displayed at a local museum for a month. That could be a big break for him, for so many people to see his work.

And besides, he hadn't ever entered a contest before.

Kiku stepped into the hallway, folding the flyer in half.

He'd decide later.

* * *

><p><em>Well, there you go! I hope you all enjoyed reading as much as I did writing. I find it kind of weird that in a story that is from the perspective of a deaf person, my main inspiration is music. I feel the need to listen to certain songs when writing certain scenes. For the first half of this chapter, it was Oats We Sow by Gregory and the Hawk, and for the second it was Comes and Goes by Greg Laswell. I suggest looking them up!<em>

_ Also, it seems as I write more and more, more literary elements like foreshadowing and motif seem to slip their way into my writing. Hmm. Also, it is my head canon that Kiku, deaf or hearing, doesn't really like public speaking all that much. He's a bit shy._

_ Anyway thank you for reading! Reviews are very much appreciated. I will try to get the next chapter out by mid-March_


	7. Chapter 7

_Okay, sorry for the slight lateness of this chapter, it's a bit long. It actually would have been out yesterday, but deleted everything I edited. But anyway, a couple notes before we start:_

_Firstly, this story has hit fifty reviews! So thank you very much to everyone who review, and even to those who didn't because I love you guys too._

_Secondly, this story was also recommended on TVTropes! That was actually kind of a dream of mine, so thank you to Solandra for the rec! Anyway, on with the story!_

* * *

><p>Talking on Paper<p>

by IdiotFromOsaka

_"A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous."~Ingrid Bergman_

oOoOo

Time passed, as time tends to do, and life went on normally. Seconds became minutes, minutes became hours, hours became days, days became weeks.

One week, to be exact.

From a stranger's perspective, it would appear that not much had changed. Even with the project over, Kiku and Herakles still sat side by side in class, chatting more than they probably should have. They painted, with watercolors now, commenting on each other's choice of perspective, colors, technique. But there were differences, seemingly unimportant to an outsider's eye, but all too significant to Kiku.

The lack of visits, for one.

With the project having finished, there was absolutely no reason for Kiku and Herakles to continue meeting outside of school so much, aside from just hanging out. It would appear… odd, to be together as often as they once were.

Being together, for no other reason than to just _be_… It would attract attention. A bad sort of attention. So Kiku invented tiny little lies- too much homework, a test to study for, chores- to keep himself from hanging out with Herakles too often.

(He just didn't want attention, Kiku told himself. But attention didn't scare him nearly as much as the beating in his chest and warming of his face that only Herakles could cause.)

And Herakles. There was something off about him, something Kiku could not quite place. Maybe it was that the shine in his eyes, drops of dew painted on sea of grass, had seemed to dim. Perhaps his shoulders slumped a bit more than usual, or his smiles fell into frowns much too quickly. He seemed… sad, almost. Disappointed?

Kiku would not be surprised if he was. Herakles had every right.

It was because of this that Kiku was absolutely puzzled by the events of a certain Friday afternoon.

Kiku leaned back in his chair, sighing as he went. Mrs. Tanner stood at the front of the room, lips pulled into a forced smile and hair out of place. She was telling the class about… something. Honestly, Kiku had stopped watching Mrs. Lacy ages ago, instead deciding stare pointedly at the clock, like watching it made it move faster. It was incredibly unlike him, to not pay attention in class, but Kiku was far too tired to care.

The excuses he had given Herakles were not _complete _lies; he'd been bombarded with homework the night before. The work had been finished, luckily, but Kiku had time for little else that night, even working straight through dinner.

He wondered if his tiredness showed- if there were dark circles painted under his eyes, or if he yawned a bit to much.

He wondered if Herakles noticed.

Apprehensive, Kiku let his gaze slide in the direction of said sleepy boy. Herakles seemed asleep, body leaned over the table and head resting on lazily folded arms. His eyes had been closed for some time now, dark lashes fanning out on the tops of his cheeks and fluttering occasionally. Kiku found it odd, the way Herakles always seemed to sleep but never showed any signs of having worked too hard or staying up too late. But many things about Herakles were rather odd.

Slowly, Herakles' left hand curled inward. Kiku watched as the movement came to a stop, fingers half-way between an open palm and a fist, with a bit of space between each digit. The corner of Herakles' mouth curled into a pleasant smile, and Kiku felt himself become much more aware of the position of his own hands.

He had come to hate it, how everything seemed to lead back to Herakles.

Kiku had held his hand. _Held his hand. _Did people normally get so excited about something like that?

He could still feel the warmth of Herakles' fingers laced between his own, if he tried hard enough.

Feeling his face beginning to warm, heart pump, hands shake, Kiku turned his attention to the front of the room. The blackboard and area in front of it was decidedly empty, Mrs. Tanner having retreated to her desk. Students began to gather their things, conversing as they did. A few early birds trickled towards the door, eager to get out of the classroom.

Kiku sighed, an act of both relief and frustration. Relief, because it'd finally just set in that it was Friday, meaning a nice break from the hassle of school. Frustration, because class was coming to an end, and Herakles was still sleeping. Meaning someone, namely Kiku, would have to wake him up.

When had that become something to dread? When had Kiku stopped wanting to see that way Herakles first looked as he awoke, all bleary eyed and groggy but still smiling?

Kiku reached out, resting a nervous hand on Herakles' shoulder. Never, he thought. Kiku knew he was just stupidly awkward about such things.

He shook the boy awake, watching as his eyes fluttered open. Quickly, but reluctantly, Kiku pulled his hand away, reaching for the notebook laying on the table before them. Herakles sat up, straightening his shoulders and eyeing Kiku curiously. He ran a hand through his hair, a sad attempt to straighten the mess, although it wasn't much more unkempt than usual.

Picking up a mechanical pencil, nearly out of lead, Kiku began to scribble a note. _Class is about to end._

Herakles blinked, then nodded. _Thanks for waking me, _he replied. The pencil he wrote with was incredibly dull, the graphite barely protruding from the wood, causing his handwriting to be even more illegible than usual. Kiku wondered why Herakles didn't just use a mechanical.

There was a small, still moment, where neither made a move to write. But unlike other times, similar moments, it was completely and utterly awkward. Kiku could practically feel Herakles' stiffness, even though they didn't touch. It scared him, just a little, when Herakles was like this- edgy, unsure. It was just so… _not Herakles._

Beside him, Herakles breathed in deeply, his chest puffing up with air, and moved his hand towards the paper.

_Would you like to hang out today? _Kiku had just been waiting for the question to appear. He'd been asked it every day this week, and he knew today would be no different. He stared, thoughtful, at the question before him. He'd turned down the offer every time it was asked. Lifting his eyes up meet Herakles' own, Kiku found his mind twisting in a different direction than normal. There was a certain kind of… hope, in his expression, his eyes. A hope that should have diminished, Kiku supposed, each time he was rejected, but had seemed to come back full force.

Kiku's lips quirked a smile. _That sounds fun._

It was almost funny, the way Herakles' face immediately lit up at his answer. The other boy's eyes had considerably widened, probably both out of shock and happiness. Timidly, Herakles licked his lips, scribbling words onto the paper. _What would you like to do?_

Kiku shrugged, unsure himself. There was no project to work on anymore, so they couldn't do that. Kiku didn't go out with friends often, leaving him with little to no idea of what was usually done on these outings. He looked at Herakles, somewhat expectantly, eyebrows raised.

Herakles, seeming to understand, began to write again. He brushed a piece of hair behind his ear, but the action was futile, as the hair only fell back in his face.

_Well, have you ever had a gyro?_

Kiku shook his head no. He knew the word, knew it was a sort of dish, but had never seen nor eaten one for himself.

Herakles smiled just a tiny bit wider. He rolled his pencil between his fingers. _Well, I get a discount at the shop I work at, if you'd like to try one._

Kiku looked down at the small note, letting his dark bangs fall across his face. He remembered Herakles having said something about where he worked, once. He squeezed the pencil lightly in his hand, and his toes curled inside his shoes. The corners of his mouth tightened slightly as he replied. _That sounds fun. _Herakles' face absolutely lit up.

All at once, the class began to stand up, collectively moving towards the door. Herakles began to quickly scribble once again, asking a small, simple question. _You ready?_

Kiku grabbed his backpack from beneath the table and swung it over his shoulder as he stood, turning his head so his eyes met Herakles'. The corner of his mouth curved upward uncontrollably, refusing to pull back down into his normal expression. He was was left, nodding, with odd looking smile on his face.

The pair (pair… Kiku kind of liked the feel of that word) left the building together, unknowingly walking in time. Kiku's right foot would fall forward and Herakles' would follow, as if they were marching. With one hand, Kiku lightly gripped the strap of his backpack, ensuring he could hold the weight that was his bag. For whatever reason, he would keep several textbooks in there at a time, just in case.

It seemed that both had brought all of their homework to their last class, leaving no reason to return to their lockers, so they simply just walked out the doors, only stopping to glance at their class' artwork hung magnificently on the wall. Herakles shot him a curious glance, apparently noticing that Kiku's painting wasn't there. Kiku hastily spelt out 'contest' in reply. Somewhere in that conversation, there was the silent agreement that it would be explained later.

Stepping through the school doors, into the smell of earth and the feel of sunshine, Kiku released a contented sigh. Perhaps, just perhaps, things were getting back to normal.

oOoOo

Things felt rather perfect, walking to the gyro shop. The air felt refreshing as it traveled in and out of Kiku's lungs, neither warm nor cold and tainted with the smell of fall rain. Bright colored leaves crunched beneath his feet, breaking into smaller pieces as he walked. Herakles was a comfortable presence beside Kiku, smiling lightly and taking smaller steps than usual. Rather perfect indeed.

Some people probably found it strange, but Kiku preferred walking to places. He, like most people his age, had his driver's license, but there was something about traveling by foot that made him enjoy it so much more than driving. It was much easier to think when he was walking, not really needing to pay as close attention to signs and the road before him. He got a bit of exercise too. And not to mention, he and Herakles could talk a bit.

Herakles, it seemed, was a rather fast learner. And he _liked _to learn as well (something hard to believe, considering how many naps he took during the school day). But nevertheless, Herakles was a curious creature, eager to learn things that interested him. Sign language seemed to fall under this category.

Herakles kicked a rather large leaf as he brought his hands up once again. His eyes held a glimmer of curiosity as he signed, for the umpteenth time, what appeared to be his new favorite phrase.

_'How do you sign…?'_

This time, it was followed by Herakles dropping a hand to the edge of his jacket. He gave it a light tug, sending ripples through the fabric. _Jacket, _Kiku assumed, from the lack of him pointing out any specific part of the jacket itself. Herakles sent him an eager look as Kiku begun to move his hand from his sides, and up to his shoulders. Hands closed, he made a motion as if he were pulling a piece of cloth over his body, making a small arc and stopping at the top of his chest. Then, he brought his hands a bit away from his chest, making another small semi-circle.

Herakles stared, wide eyed, as if it would help absorb the motion into his memory. His hands shook slightly as he brought his hands up as well, preparing to mimic the smaller boy. At first, the word was slow and tentative, but as Herakles tried it again the motion became fluid, natural.

Kiku's smile was polite as he nodded in approval, trying to hide that little bubble of warmth that appeared in his chest each time Herakles signed something new. Herakles' smile grew wide, facial expression like that of a child receiving new toy. Kiku, pressing his lips together, noticed his face growing warm.

They continued to walk along, content in each other's company. Herakles brought his chin a little higher, so that his eyes directed towards the expanse of blue above them. Out of the corner of his eye, Kiku just watched, the slight changes of expression on his face, the wind playing in his hair. Suddenly, a large breeze blasted through the air, effectively startling Kiku and sending chill through his body.

He pulled his jacket a little tighter. Herakles had slowed his pace, steps turning lazier. Kiku let his pace slow as well, angling his head in Herakles' direction. And the taller boy smiled, letting a laugh escape him. Kiku watched the way his chest jumped a little, and couldn't help but do the same.

The gyro shop was only about a fifteen minute walk from the school, to Kiku's delight. The building was a small, isolated one, painted a shade of yellowish off-white and surrounded by a sea of concrete. Only four cars were parked outside the restaurant, something that seemed reasonable in Kiku's mind. It was only just past three, after all, meaning the lunch rush would be over and the prospect of dinner was still far off.

Over the doorway, there hung a large sign, obviously supposed to glow at night, but dirtied and faded. In large, angular letters, was the name _Alekzander's._

Herakles led him in, politely holding back the large wooden door as Kiku passed. The inside of the building was slightly cooler than outside, but not by much. Kiku attributed it to the cool white tile beneath his feet, and maybe even the cool colors decorating the place. Kiku had read once that cool colors, blues, greens, purples, could actually make a person feel cold. And although the interior of the restaurant was primarily white, any other color decorating the building was blue- blue on the cushions of chairs, in the backgrounds of paintings, lining the edges of tables.

The smell of the building was different, to Kiku at least. But not in a bad way. He liked it, the way the new and unfamiliar smell danced in his head with each breath he took. There were spices in the air, mixing with the scent of cooked meat and, just barely, the smell of something sweet.

To Kiku's left was a small counter, connected to a display case filled to the brim with pastries. A young man, likely only a few years older than Kiku, leaned against the counter, a bored expression etched into his features. Elbow rested against the countertop, a tanned hand was placed under his stubble-ridden chin. Dark hair stood up aimlessly on his head as he peered around the nearly-vacant restaurant.

The man's eyes flicked toward Kiku and Herakles, face immediately twisting into a scowl. A spark of anger lit in his eyes as he shot a glare in Herakles' direction, and, to Kiku's surprise, Herakles was glaring back.

_Herakles._

_ Was glaring._

It was at this point that Kiku decided that something was seriously wrong.

Lips curled into a frown, Herakles took a confident step towards the man. Kiku noticed he was standing up straight now, a bit too straight, his muscles tightened and hands curled into fists. Kiku followed Herakles' lead, moving closer to the register, finding a place a few inches behind the taller boy. At the moment, he felt it would be better to not get involved in… whatever was going on.

The man, face moving into a devious smirk, spat what seemed to be insulting words at Herakles. He leaned his weight farther onto the counter, eyes daring Herakles to respond.

Kiku was slightly startled at the response, the way Herakles' chin shot up in defiance, how his shoulder blades pushed backward and chest puffed up. He shot back an angry sentence, and Kiku found himself shying slightly backward.

The man leaned closer, replying with an angry flick of his tongue, his eyebrows beginning to furrow. Herakles moved even closer as he answered the man, his shoulders beginning to rise defensively. Kiku could practically feel the tension in the room as they argued back and forth, the quarrel slowly becoming more and more heated. Herakles was gritting his teeth now, and his arms shook.

It was so completely and utterly _weird_. Herakles was calm, patient, understanding, nothing like this strange, angry boy before him. There was a strange, illogical part of Kiku's brain that said this couldn't _possibly _be the Herakles Karpusi that he knew, simply a rather angry doppelganger that had momentarily taken his place. But the logical part of his brain said otherwise, knowing that this was truly Herakles he was seeing, albeit a different side.

The man was standing now, palms pressed flat against the countertop as he leaned forward. Herakles' fists were shaking. Kiku didn't think it was possible, but the tension in the room had heightened. Herakles' fist began to gradually be lifted from his side and, in a split second heat of the moment decision, Kiku decided to step between the two.

It was nearly automatic, the change in mood. Kiku held his hands up, one palm faced towards each man, his shoulders tensing as he realized just what he was getting himself into. He first looked at Herakles, trying to communicate how uncomfortable he felt in that moment, and it seemed he was successful; Herakles' face dropped, his eyes widening and lips parting. Something strange happened in his eyes, that flame of anger and hatred was extinguished, replaced with something… apologetic? Herakles' shoulders fell forward into a casual slump as he brought what had once been a shaking fist up to his chest.

Although the fingers were still curled in, they were much looser now, finding their place in the center of Herakles' chest. With that fist, he made a small circle.

_'I'm sorry.'_

Kiku felt his lips curving upward. _'It's okay,' _he replied, trying to offer some sort of solace. He leaned his head toward the sitting area, raising his eyebrows. _'Table?' _Kiku asked.

Herakles nodded rather distractedly, taking a small step forward towards the register. He didn't look the young man in the eye, instead directing his focus at the menu board above him. His eyes had that glazed over look to them, as if he were looking, but not really. Lost in thought, perhaps.

Kiku turned to leave, eyeing a rather nice-looking booth by a window, when a hand reached out, latching onto his wrist. Kiku felt his muscles stiffen for a moment, before recognizing the feel of said hand, the slight largeness of it. He tilted his head back at Herakles.

The boy's eyes were wide, rather unsure as his hand released it's grip on Kiku's wrist. His hand was brought up to his chin, forming around an invisible cup with his hands as he tilted it back.

_'Drink?'_

Kiku smiled a small smile, beginning to bring his hands up. _'Water, please.' _Herakles nodded a response, and Kiku cast a sidelong glance at the young man behind the counter. His brows were furrowed, not in anger, but out of confusion from the exchange taking place. Kiku turned back to the sitting area, making his way to that nice little booth.

Herakles joined him only a few minutes later, bringing with him two paper cups- one full of water, and the other with what appeared to be some sort of cola. He slid into the booth, placing the two drinks at their respective places on the table as he began to slip his backpack off of his shoulders. He pulled out that familiar red notebook and a pair of wooden pencils, setting them on the top of the painted wooden table.

That red notebook. They'd been using it for quite a while now, although there was really no reason to. Kiku had located the green one ages ago, many of the pages still not used. But by then, the red notebook had far too many memories attached to it, so Kiku made the rather irrational decision to continue using the red notebook for the time being.

(He hadn't told Herakles, for some odd reason feeling very apprehensive about doing such a thing. The green notebook was hidden in his bookshelf between book twenty-four of Ranma 1/2 and a thesaurus.)

Herakles brought the tip of his pencil to the paper before him, his shoulders slightly hunched as he began to write. _Sorry about that. _His handwriting was slightly neater than usual, the strokes thinner and much less slanted.

_It's fine, _Kiku wrote back, trying to appear passive about the situation but still curious. After a moment of internal debate, curiosity won over. _But, what happened exactly?_

Herakles released a deep sigh, eyes straying to the man at the register. _That was Sadiq. _His handwriting left indentions in the paper. _We kinda hate each other._

Kiku cocked his head at the statement, as if to ask _"Kinda?"_

Herakles' lips fell into a frown. _Okay, we really hate each other. So, we fight a lot. _The sarcastic part of Kiku's brain immediately said 'No. Really.' _Sorry, I didn't know it was his shift today. _Kiku pulled a calm look onto his face, waving his hand as if to say it was okay.

_It's a bit… _Kiku brought the eraser of his pencil to his chin as he thought of the right word. _…disconcerting to see you angry though. _Herakles expression began to turn worried. _Not in a bad way- it's interesting to see a different side of you. _The taller boy's face relaxed, eyebrows having slackened and lips forming an almost-smile. And looking at him, a weird, warm feeling that he couldn't quite describe began to fill Kiku's chest. Kiku decided he liked it.

That odd, yet comfortable moment returned, where hands did not move, and both were content with just letting their thoughts run their course. Occasionally, they would catch each other's gases, brown meeting green, and they'd smile and chuckle under their breath. It was at this point that Kiku realized something.

This… _outing _felt an awful lot like a date.

Not that Kiku would have any experience with anything romantic, but he'd read quite a few books in his time, and watched his fair share of television, and he was pretty sure that a date went an awful lot like what was happening right now.

His face was warm, his shoulders stiffening. Did Herakles notice? Oh God, Kiku hoped not.

Kiku replayed the day's events over in his head. Herakles had asked him to go eat with him (just the two of them, _just the two of them_), they walked to the restaurant together, they were about to eat. Together. Not with a group of friends. Just Herakles. And just Kiku.

He could feel his pulse beginning to quicken. From across the table, Herakles was eyeing him curiously, brows beginning to knot. In a spur of the moment decision, Kiku lifted his hand, balancing his pencil between his fingers, and brought it down to the nearly blank paper before him.

He had to ask a question.

Start a conversation.

Something, _anything_, to keep him mind away from _that._

Because Kiku knew he liked Herakles a lot, maybe too much, and he was pretty sure Herakles liked him back, and as much as he hated to admit it he couldn't ruin this _thing _had going by being an awkward, nervous wreck because he suddenly started thinking like that.

The tip of Kiku's pencil pressed against the paper.

_So, what is a gyro anyway?_

Herakles' face lit up at the suggestion, as if he were excited to teach Kiku something, as opposed to the other way around. His eyes still contained their normal sleepiness, but were a bit wider than usual.

_It's this seasoned meat wrapped in pita bread. _Herakles looked up, searching Kiku's eyes for… something. Kiku's eyebrows were gently knit, not appalled or uninterested, but somewhat confused. The dish didn't sound incredibly interesting from what he'd been told, especially compared to how excited Herakles had been about asking Kiku to try one. Herakles' face suddenly held a look of nervousness; he ducked his head down and quickly scribbled a second part to the description._They serve it with this yogurt sause and tomato. I know it doesn't sound like much, but it's really good._

Kiku brought his face into a polite smile as he wrote. _I'm excited to try it. _He really wasn't _that _excited. _You work here, right? _Herakles nodded. _Do you make the gyros?_

To Kiku's surprise, Herakles just chuckled to himself, hair brushing from side to side as he shook his head. _No, _he wrote, _I'm not really good at cooking. I just work the register and bus tables. _Herakles quirked a small, slightly shameful smile as he mocked himself. _The only reason I actually have a job here is because my mom was friends with the owner._

Herakles' mother. She was an enigma to Kiku, never having actually appeared before him, despite her strong presence in the Karpusi home. There were plenty of photos decorating the walls, the tables, of a beautiful brunette woman with the same mess of wavy hair as here son. Kiku knew near nothing about her, but he could make little guesses. Her smile was a calm, relaxed one, showing off the shallow laugh lines on her face. She was a happy person, but not overly energetic. She was a calm sort of happy. And judging from all the times she hugged Herakles in the photos, she really, truly loved her son, and was certainly not afraid of showing it. And judging from Herakles' lack of protest, he loved his mother just as much.

But Kiku, despite all the information he had picked up, was still very curious about the woman. Without much hesitation, he decided it wouldn't hurt to ask.

Kiku began to etch words into the half-filled paper. _What's your mother like? I haven't met her._

Kiku immediately regretted that he asked. It was not that Kiku feared how it would be answered, nor regretting how he phrased it, but Herakles' _face._

His lips had fallen into a frown, lips pressed tightly together as he swallowed. And his eyes. At first, they held a bit of shock, eyelashes fluttering, but then understanding, and finally some sort of watered down sadness, the type that had been lurking quietly beneath the surface, just waiting for the right moment to rise.

It was old sadness.

Herakles, somehow someway, was smiling. He bit his lip as he looked to the table, as if remembering something. His smile, Kiku was sure, was in no way fake. Herakles wasn't the type to fake a smile, even for Kiku's sake. Kiku watched as Herakles' gaze flitted about the tiles of the floor, mind clearly having fled reality.

Kiku's heart nearly stopped, a sudden realization hitting him. He knew that type of sadness, he had seen it before.

Herakles looked up, smiling kindly at Kiku as he brought his pencil back to the paper. His eyes moved to the ceiling in thought, as if he was looking for just the right words.

_She was very kind, _he wrote, words scrawling slowly across the paper. _And smart. She was always teaching me new things, especially history. _His smile widened, eyes filled to the brim with nostalgia. _She was a history teacher so I guess that makes sense._

A single word resonated in Kiku's mind.

_Was._

Herakles continued writing, completely oblivious to the way Kiku's brows had knotted, his muscles tensed. _She died a couple years ago, so that's why you haven't met her._

Kiku swallowed thickly as he was proven right. It was sadness from things lost. Sadness from love lost.

He willed his hand to write straight as he pressed it to the paper (it was almost full now). The words formed slowly, slipping reluctantly from the pencil in his hand.

_I'm sorry._

Herakles smiled, sweetly. _Don't apologize. Besides, she's probably just hanging out in Elysium right now. I'll see her eventually._

Kiku's toes pressed down against the bottom of his shoes as he studied Herakles. The smile on his face was just barely there, looking as if just a single careless word would let it slip away. His eyes gleamed with a bit of cynicism, as if he had seen too much, as if he didn't quite believe himself. There was a gaping, empty hole in Kiku's chest where he was compensating for the sadness Herakles did not show.

Kiku decided he hated it. He hated that look on Herakles' face, he hated the way his shoulders were slumping, he hated how it felt like Herakles wasn't quite there. As much as he liked learning new things about Herakles, he wanted to see him _happy. _The smile on Herakles' face lied, because he was certainly not happy.

Kiku decided to change the subject.

_You really like Greek mythology, don't you?_

Herakles nodded absently. _My mom would always tell them to me as bedtime stories. _His chest moved slightly, shoulders curling up as he chuckled. _Well, clean versions of them anyway._

Herakles' gaze slid past Kiku, focusing on something behind him. It was then that Kiku noticed that Herakles was not really _there. _Well, not mentally. By the nostalgia filling his eyes, Kiku could guess that maybe, just maybe, Herakles had drifted to the past. Maybe his arms were wrapped around his mother, just a few years back. Maybe he was a small child, wrapped in bedsheets, smiling as he learned of the hero that shared his name.

It was like that for a bit longer, Kiku sitting rather still, only being able to guess what was going in Herakles' mind, the boy's face gradually changing expression as they sat. Herakles suddenly picked up his pencil again, tentatively beginning to write.

_I'm going to the bathroom, okay? _He only let his gaze drop to Kiku for a split second, just long enough to see him nod, before excusing himself from the table.

Kiku let himself lean over the table, elbows balanced on the wood and heels of his hands press against his eyes. He just didn't know how to feel. Part of him wanted to feel happy, elated that Herakles was letting Kiku into his life, letting him see different sides of the boy. And Kiku was, a little bit. But not completely. That sad sad look in Herakles eyes… Kiku couldn't stand it. The way Herakles smiled even though he looked like he wanted to cry, it triggered this stupid, painful sensation in his chest. Like Herakles being sad made him sad as well.

Kiku couldn't fathom it, losing a parent. And losing a _close _parent at that. Losing his mother. Kiku didn't want to think about it, what it would be like for his mother to only exist in memories. To know that he would never again be able to eat dinner with her, never show her his newest painting, never give her a hug. Just imagining made his heart hurt.

Kiku's heart pumped faster as he realized that, not only did the though make him sad, it scared him. He had only ever had his mother. His father was a mystery, always known as simply 'an old boyfriend from college'. His extended family didn't even live in the same country as him. If Kiku's mother were to die, he would be all alone-

He was jolted out of his train of thought by tray of food sliding into his vision. There were two plastic plates on it, holding what Kiku could only assume to be a gyro. It consisted of several strips of meat, light brown with spices mixed in, wrapped in a small, round piece of pita bread. Each sandwich was topped with two slices of tomato, and to the side was a small cup of a sort of white sauce, which Kiku assumed to be the yogurt sauce Herakles had talked about.

Kiku tilted his head up, eyes meeting those of the man who carried the tray. It was a familiar, stubbly face. The young man, Sadiq.

He stared down at Kiku, a slightly annoyed look etched into his features. Opening his mouth, Sadiq spoke- but not angrily, to Kiku's delight. Words slipped off his tongue like he was simply stating a fact. What that fact was, however, was an unknown.

Kiku reached for the for the notebook in the center of the table, quickly turning the page and pushing it in Sadiq's direction. Sadiq looked down at the paper, curiously, before looking back up at Kiku, and then down at the paper again. A question in his eyes, he mouthed words, moving his hand in a writing motion. Kiku nodded.

Sadiq reached for a pencil, Herakles' pencil, Kiku noticed, and brought it to the paper. _I called your number like 10 times, _he wrote. His handwriting wasn't as sloppy as Herakles', but it certainly wasn't neat either. Sadiq pressed hard when he wrote, leaving indentions in the notebook.

_Sorry, _Kiku replied. He brought a hand to his ear, tapping twice. Sadiq's eyes opened a bit wider in understanding, and he nodded.

For a moment, Sadiq lifted his head, scanning the small restaurant. His brows knotted as he began to write again. _Where'd Karpusi go?_

_ Bathroom._

Sadiq's face twisted into a scowl, and he glared pointedly towards the bathroom. _That was a jerk move. He just left you here?_

Kiku felt his brow began to furrow, still not quite understanding why Herakles and Sadiq hated each other so much. _I'm fine._

_ Still, he's such a jerk. _There was a bit of anger, and a bit of confusion in Sadiq's face as he looked at Kiku. The anger was not directed at Kiku though, there was no glare attached to it. That anger was reserved solely for Herakles Karpusi. _Why'd you come with him anyway?_

_ Well, we're friends, _Kiku began. The word 'friends' stuck out unnaturally in his mind, not because he was desperately holding onto it like he was falling and it was the only rope in sight, no. Something had changed. He hated that word. He wanted it changed. When did that happen? When had he given in? Kiku pushed the thoughts away, and finished the sentence. _And he invited me._

Sadiq frowned at him, like he didn't quite believe what Kiku had told him. _Hm, fine. _Another glare was shot at the bathroom before Sadiq's lips pulled into a cocky smile. _But if he's a jerk to you, just talk to me allright? _His teeth were showing now, and the look he gave Kiku seemed to be one of kindness. _I'll beat him up for you._

Kiku, unsure of exactly how to answer that, just nodded. Sadiq seemed to take that as an acceptable answer, smiling widely at the smaller boy. He threw a thumb over his shoulder, motioning to the register, and waved a goodbye to Kiku as he walked back to the front of the restaurant.

Kiku was left a bit confused.

Herakles returned moments later, his gate a bit bouncier as he walked. He was smiling, not a sad smile, but a nice, calm, happy one. Kiku quickly ripped out his conversation with Sadiq, folding it up hurriedly and shoving it in his pocket before Herakles could see.

_Sorry about that, _Herakles wrote as soon as he slid back into the booth. He leaned back a little in his chair, eye widening and mouth forming a small 'o' shape as he registered the food at the table. He looked up, concerned. _Did you have to deal with Sadiq?_

Kiku nodded, a bit tentative as he saw Herakles shoot an irritated glare at the cashier. _It was fine, though. He was nice. _From the look Kiku received, he may have well told Herakles that aliens were attacking, but it was okay because they were being fought by teenage girls with magical powers.

_Well, anyway, _Herakles wrote, seeming desperate to change the subject, _let's eat. And weren't you going to tell me about a contest you entered?_

oOoOo

Kiku arrived back home, with Herakles by his side, some time between 4;30 and 5 o'clock. They had eaten their gyros (which were really rather good) pretty quickly, but they'd chatted a little longer before deciding to leave. However, not quite ready to abandon their little get together just yet, the pair decided to go back to Kiku's place to hang out a little longer.

Kiku opened the front door, sliding his key into the lock. He turned it to the right, as he had many times before, then rotating it back into an upright position. The key was pulled out of the lock, and Kiku turned the handle. The door, however, seemed to be stuck (it did that sometimes). Handle still turned, Kiku pressed his shoulder against the dark wood, ramming into it once, twice, three times before it opened.

He led Herakles in, the two of them slipping off their shoes at the door. The tile in the foyer was cool beneath Kiku's feet, the chill even slipping through the fabric his socks. They walked a little further, past the stairs and kitchen, and into the living room. (The lights were on, an Kiku attributed it to his mother forgetting to turn it off in the morning. She did that sometimes.)They both fell lazily onto the couch, backpacks slipping off and legs stretching. Kiku tilted his head in Herakles' direction, a tired smile inching its way onto his face. Herakles looked back.

And they laughed, for no reason other than laughing.

Herakles bent forward, smile still present on his face, and pulled the red notebook from his backpack. He brought a pair of pencils with him, using the smaller of two to write.

_I had a lot of fun today. _His strokes were light on the paper, words forming a bit more slowly than usual.

Kiku could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he nodded in reply. He took the other pencil. _Me too. _His face was warm, he could feel it. He couldn't help it; this just felt so _date-like. _And Herakles had neither confirmed nor denied that this was a date, so it very well could be one. And from the way Herakles was looking that Herakles was looking at him, Kiku was pretty sure he was correct to assume that this _was _one, and _God, _his heart felt like it would burst.

Herakles lifted a hand, bringing it to his ear. _'Kiku,' _he signed, and Kiku's pulse raced even faster. _'How do you sign K-I-S-S?'_

Kiku could barely breath, could barely _think. _The only thing he could think to do was answer, bringing his hands up to his chest. His hands made two rounded triangles, fingers all coming together at a thin vertex. He pressed the two vertexes together.

Herakles was looking down at him, looking a bit nervous. Not nearly as nervous as Kiku, but nervous all the same. He copied the motion with ease, a question in his eyes.

The only way Kiku could think to respond was with a tiny nod.

A small, lazy smile appeared on Herakles' face as he lifted a hand to cup Kiku's cheek. His touch was like electricity to Kiku. Kiku knew what came next. Herakles was inching closer and closer, Kiku's heart beat faster and faster, until finally, _finally, _their lips touched.

And it was awkward and clumsy and new and strange and absolutely positively _perfect._

It was so easy, just to get lost in the feeling of Herakles' slightly lips against his own (they were slightly chapped, a little salty), so easy for Kiku not to pay attention to the world around him. (Because in that moment, other people didn't matter, and the world only consisted of Herakles and Kiku and absolutely no one else).

But their _were _other people in the world, something Kiku only remembered when they pulled apart, and he was looking into Herakles' perfectly emerald eyes, and he realized that they were not the only people in the room.

Kiku quickly turned his head, practically jumping away from Herakles as he registered the other figure- a woman with a petite figure, dark hair falling to her shoulders. His mother.

Kiku's face couldn't have been more warm. His mother was staring at the pair of them, an unreadable look on her face. There were too many emotions in their: shock, embarrassment, confusion… disgust? (He hoped he was wrong about that last one). Kiku refused to look at Herakles.

His mother's face quickly returned to her normal, composed look. She brushed her fingers through her hair, turning her gaze to Herakles. There was a stern look in her eyes as she raised her hands and opened her mouth at the same time. _'I think it'd be best if you left now.' _It was not as much of a suggestion as it was an order, something that Herakles recognized. Kiku went against his decision to not look at Herakles, and let his eyes follow the boy as he zipped up his backpack and turned to go towards the door. For a moment, he stopped, pulling a hand to his chest.

_'Sorry.'_

And then he left.

Kiku's mother moved to the couch, sitting on the opposite side of where Herakles had been. Her hands were clasped in her lap, her head angled downward. Like she didn't want to look.

A million possibilities passed through Kiku's mind, of how she would respond, what she would say.

_I'm disappointed._

_ It's just a phase, right?_

_ You're no longer my son._

_ Get out of my sight._

Suddenly, Kiku's mother lifted her head, eyes meeting her son's. She took a deep breath, unclasping her hands. '_So,' _she started. '_Are you and Herakles… together?'_

Kiku found himself being both relieved and anxious at the question. Relief, because it was not nearly as bad as he had anticipated. Anxious, because he really couldn't answer that question.

_'I'm not really sure.' _Kiku had no experience with these sort of things, so he didn't trust himself with deciding if he was in a relationship or not. _'Maybe?'_

Kiku's mother smiled, just a bit, at the somewhat odd answer. It was almost as if she was trying to lighten mood, although it didn't seem to affect Kiku much. He was still just as nervous as ever.

Her expression faded back to one of seriousness, lips pressed together as she posed another question. _'Are you gay then?'_

This question took much less thought. It was rather simple; Kiku had kissed Herakles. Herakles was a guy. And Kiku had _liked _kissing Herakles, a guy. And he would gladly do it over again. And again.

And besides, when he thought about it, kissing a girl sounded rather unpleasant.

Kiku nodded to his mother. _'I think so.'_

For a little while, they didn't talk. Kiku's mother just breathed, in, out, in, out, trying to take the new information in. Her lips were pressed together tightly, her eyes having gone back to staring at her hands. Her toes bent nervously. Kiku felt his muscles stiffen, the couch suddenly becoming rather uncomfortable. His hands gripped the edge of the cushion beneath him. Slowly, carefully, he brought one hand to his chest, making a small circle motion with his fist.

_'I'm sorry.'_

And Kiku's mother simply smiled. She looked up at her son (when had Kiku grown taller than her?) eyes full of what Kiku could only describe as love. Her hand touched his shoulder, squeezing lightly.

_'Don't apologize. We'll figure this out later, alright?' _Kiku nodded, relieved. _'Now, are you hungry?'_

Kiku replied that he'd already eaten.

oOoOo

Saturday was much less eventful than the day prior.

Kiku didn't do much more than sleep, eat, and work on homework. But that was done. Now it was time for some video games.

Pokémon, to be specific.

Kiku stared angrily down at the small, luminous screen of his DS, back against the headboard of his bed. It was uncomfortable, but Kiku didn't care. He was right in the middle of a rather intense battle with the first of the Final Four, and he was, to his delight, winning.

His opponent was down to his last Pokémon, a bug type. Kiku smiled a smile filled to the brim with satisfaction as he sent out his Rapidash, level seventy and with full HP. The opposing Pokémon was out in only a couple of hits.

Kiku released a deep sigh. It was weird, how simple video games like that could get him so incredibly worked up. He guessed that he simply got too into the game, started feeling like he was there. He only really remembered reality when all the tension was gone, when he was just exploring a brand new town, no need to fear any trainers or wild Pokémon. To be honest, he sometimes preferred his digital world to the real one.

Like now, for instance,

It was amazing, how yesterday had gone from utterly awkward to absolutely amazing to awkward again.

Kiku and Herakles hadn't conversed since yesterday, and Kiku's mother had completely avoided the topic. It was as if Friday had never even happened.

But it had, and Kiku was left utterly confused.

Kiku turned his attention back to his game, going into his bag and saving his game. His hand moved around the smooth plastic of his DS to the ON/OFF button, and with a flick of his finger, the screen turned black. Kiku was pretty sure he'd had enough of the game for now, instead turning his attention to his computer.

He willed himself off the bed (the mattress was rather comfy), making his way to his desk. Kiku practically fell into the wooden chair, moving his hand to open the small laptop that the Honda family shared. Immediately, he went to check his email.

There were only two emails in Kiku's inbox. The first was spam. The second was from Feliciano. He opened the second.

NEW MESSAGE

FROM:

MESSAGE:

hi kiku! i kinda have a problem so i was wundering if u cud help me? cuz i know ur reeealy good with problems like this cuz i see you reading some of those romanse comic books all the time!

Kiku rather resented that last statement, as he didn't own any romance manga.

(Okay, so maybe a few. But he did not read them _all the time._) Kiku continued reading.

so i really wanna tell luddy that i like him, but i dont kno how cuz luddy is always reeeealy dense about romancy stuff so i think hell not get what im saying u know? help plz!

Kiku sighed at the computer screen. Like _he _would know what to do. Why did Feliciano choose _him _of all people to ask for help when it came to relationships? He'd be better off asking Lovino for advice. (On second thought, maybe not. Lovino was rather well known for his temper, making it a point to learn nearly every cuss word in sign language, English, and Italian, and his hatred of Ludwig. If Feliciano went to his brother about it, he'd be yelling about it the rest of the day. Kiku had been told that Lovino was rather loud).

So Kiku did the cowardly thing, and x-ed out of his email.

Guilt slowly beginning to fill his chest, Kiku closed his laptop, sliding out of his chair's awkward embrace. His game, his nice little escape from reality, looked incredibly appealing at the moment. Kiku climbed back onto his bed, settling into his mattress. He picked up his DS and continued his game.

* * *

><p><em>Okay, just a couple notes to end this chapter:<em>

_People who like each other will mimic each other's body language._

_Cool colors actually do make you feel cold (we learned about it in art class)._

_Gyros are really good, so you guys should go out and try one if you haven't._

_In Greek mythology, Elysium is the part of the Underworld that is basically heaven. The reason Mama Greece told Herakles 'clean' versions of myths is because Greek myths tend to be kind of... adult. By that, I mean that they often involved rape, sex, the original Herakles killing his own family... Yeah, so Mama Greece edited them a bit. _


	8. Chapter 8

Well, here it is, chapter 8. This was originally one half of a chapter, but said chapter got to be too long, and could be easily split, so I divided it into two separate chapters. Chapter 9 will be up next week. Enjoy! And thank you for all the kind reviews!

* * *

><p>Talking on Paper<p>

by IdiotFromOsaka

_"At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet" ~Plato_

oOoOo

The weekend passed far too quickly for Kiku's taste. It felt as if there hadn't been two days of break, but barely one. Time had mushed itself together into a blur of video games and homework and wondering wondering _wondering. _Kiku hated it. His mother never ended up mentioning the events of a certain Friday evening. Kiku was unsure if he should be happy or sad regarding this lack of development.

On one hand, he wouldn't be forced to talk about any awkward relationship topics with his mother.

On the other, there was the fact that he _just didn't know. _His mother was the master of the neutral gaze, never letting an emotion, and opinion, slip into the open without conscious permission.

It was an inherited trait.

Kiku drew himself out of his thoughts, clasping a hand around the cool metal of the doorknob before him. A sigh blew from his nostrils as he gripped the knob a little tighter, twisting his wrist so that the lock moved with it. The door slid open, a burst of cool air finding it's way through the thin sliver of space between the door and it's frame. A chill traced it's way across Kiku's skin as he peered through the now-open doorway.

Orange. Orange everywhere. Leaves fluttered to the ground haphazardly, like tiny faeries having lost control of their wings.

A morbid thought, Kiku decided. Suited for a Monday.

Kiku forced himself to lift a heavy foot, placing it on the other side of the doorway as his mouth stretched into a wide yawn. As a teenager- no, scratch that- as a human, Kiku felt rather justified in his dislike of this particular day of the week. But he supposed it was not the day of the week he disliked, but what happened on it. And on his particular Monday, he hated Mondays more than usual.

Kiku lifted his other foot, fully stepping into the chill of the autumn morning. His gaze drifted past his own front yard, to the endless string of dull-colored houses and suburban sprawl that he called his neighborhood. Pulling his backpack a little higher on his shoulders, Kiku took another forced step forward, away from the warm comfort of indoors and toward his school. He couldn't see the building yet, but he knew the way like he knew the layout of his own house, he'd walked the path so often.

Kiku folded into himself as he walked, half to lessen the perceived the weight of his backpack and half to protect himself from the biting wind. For a moment, he fumbled with the zipper of his jacket, pulling the stubborn thing upward until there was no zipper left, before continuing his march forward. The sun had just began to peek over the horizon, finally deciding to leave it's well-chosen hiding spot to shed a bit of light on the earth. Kiku ducked his head down in an attempt to hide his eyes from the morning sunlight, letting his dark bangs fall over them like a curtain.

A length of uneven sidewalk caught his eye as he walked. Kiku's side of the sidewalk, by some mistake, was about an inch higher than the square of concrete beside it. A memory bubbled to the surface of Kiku's consciousness, only a month old, of a day when Herakles was too lost in thought to pick up his foot high enough to avoid the concrete ledge and ended up stumbling.

Kiku wanted to laugh and pound his fists into the nearest tree and dance and cry and he just didn't know so he just stepped over the damn ledge and kept walking.

It was sure to be a long day.

oOoOo

The day passed in a blur of printed text and anxiety. Normally, whenever stressful schooldays came about, Kiku could at least find a bit of solace in whatever art class he was taking that year. But, as fate (no, Kiku thought, _chance, _because fate was a silly concept that he could never quite believe in) would have it, the majority of his stress stemmed from the class and said class' seating arrangements.

But nevertheless, Kiku found himself stepping into art class that day, a light headache throbbing at his temple and too many books in his backpack.

A sigh found it's way out of his throat as Kiku stepped through the open doorway, the soles of his shoes dragging across the dusty floor. Five people inhabited the room when he entered, and only three were students. Two sat at their desks, lips moving as they chatted, while the other gathered painting supplies. Mrs. Tanner sat at her desk, swivel chair tilted towards Mrs. Lacy beside her as they talked. A giggle burst out of the younger woman as she looked up from her conversation, catching Kiku's gaze. She brought a hand up, calling Kiku over to her desk with a simple wave of her hand.

Kiku's eyebrows rose as he crossed the room, watching Mrs. Tanner as she sorted through the mess of paperwork and art projects piled on her desk. Her fingers wiggled impatiently as they darted across the desk, picking up small pieces of paper before deciding that they were not what she was looking for and setting them down again. Finally, a thick half-sheet of paper was pulled out of the mess. Mrs. Tanner grasped it tightly, an excited smile forming on her lips as she thrust the sheet at Kiku's chest.

Kiku grasped the paper with nervous fingers. The paper felt thick, official, like an important document or special invitation. Good news, important news, he decided before actually looking down.

The message was written in proud, loopy cursive, obviously trying to be as formal as possible. Enclosed by a thin border was the word _Congratulations!_

Kiku began towards his seat, taking in the message as it continued.

_Kiku Honda_

_Your painting has been selected as one of the top ten paintings in our competition!_

_Your painting, along with other participant's, will be showcased on Saturday, the 8th, at the Red River Art Gallery. _

_We invite you to join us._

_Winner will be announced at the end of the night._

Kiku practically fell into his seat as he arrived, eyes widened and heart thumping furiously. His grip tightened on the little slip of paper, so official and self-important and _oh my god he'd done it. _

He couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face as he read the words again. And again and again and again. Kiku ran the pad of his thumb over the parchment, relishing the rough feel of it on his skin, not because it felt particularly good but it meant that this paper _existed. _This was not just some figment of his imagination conjured by his mind to help relieve a particularly bad Monday. _This was happening._

Kiku took a particularly deep breath, a sad attempt to calm himself down, before trying to relax into the stiff curve of his chair. The excitement in his mind began to bubble down, dimming into a nice, warm glow of happiness. But, out of nowhere it seemed, a pang of distress racked Kiku's brain, digging into his chest and knotting his brow.

Kiku felt his muscles begin to tighten as he scanned the room. Herakles wasn't here yet. Good. That was good. Maybe he wouldn't get here until the last second, or better yet, be late. Maybe he wouldn't be in class today. Maybe Kiku would have a bit more time to pretend the problem didn't exist. Maybe-

No, he couldn't think like that.

Kiku bent forward, reaching for strap of his backpack and pulling it towards him. Roughly, he unzipped the the largest pocket and reached in, pulling out his sketch book. He just had to focus, not on Herakles, not on his mother, not on anything but a drawing.

He had an idea already.

Quickly, he flipped open the sketchbook, turning to the next blank page as he rested it against the edge of his desk. He brought the tip of his pencil against the paper, dragging it so a slow, curved line began to form.

A dancer, Kiku decided. He'd draw a dancer.

Gradually, the contour of a woman's body was formed, one leg outstretched. She held one arm curved across her torso, the other stretching the opposite direction of her leg. Probably not a real move in dance, but Kiku didn't care. He didn't know much about any sort of dance. And besides, this drawing was for focus. To just focus on the drawing and nothing else.

Kiku sketched for a few more moments, adding in the basic shape of the woman's head and retracing the contour so the figure appeared more natural. But curiosity overcame him. His mind, and eventually his eyes, wandered to the doorway, and who was going though it.

Kiku pressed his lips together as he stared impatiently at the doorway. Perhaps it'd be better if they just got everything over with quickly. Like ripping off a band-aid.

A leg stepped through the doorway, bringing with it a body, a person, with sleepy green eyes and wavy hair. The person looked about the room, an unusual hint of worry hiding in his expression as his eyes met Kiku's. He pulled his backpack a little higher on his shoulders and bit his lip, his leg swinging itself in front of him.

Kiku ducked his head back into his drawing, trying to bring the pencil to paper and ultimately failing. Because he _knew, _he could see out of the corner of his eye, that the person was getting closer and closer, and his heart was beating way too fast and his brain just wouldn't _focus. _Kiku just gripped the pencil even tighter.

So he just waited waited waited, for a thousand years or maybe just a single minute, until a vibration echoed through the art table. A quick breath flew out of Kiku's nostrils as the sudden movement shook his sketchbook, and he gripped the spiral even tighter. He lifted his pencil again, laying the graphite against a sketchy line, and slowly, carefully, he drew a little more. Maybe it was silly, or stupid, but in that moment Kiku thought that he could just act like he was so focused he hadn't even notice the person.

Herakles.

Kiku couldn't help but watch out of the corner of his eye as Herakles situated himself at the table, messing with the zippers of his worn-down backpack, adjusting the position of that old, dust-colored jacket he liked to wear. A hand dug into the mess that was Herakles' backpack, digging through layers of textbooks and binders and papers, until it finally paused on a single sliver of red. Long fingers reached toward towards the red object- a spiral- and pulled it from it's position behind a math textbook. Kiku flipped his pencil away from his sketchbook as Herakles' thumb dug into the edge of the notebook, turning to a blank page.

Kiku's head rose, a sigh escaping from his lips as he let his eyes focus on the notebook. Herakles' hand coiled around a wooden pencil, not incredibly dull but certainly not sharp either. Kiku didn't dare let his eyes lift from the page, let himself see what Herakles felt, as the hand began to move, making long, thick scratches on the page.

Soon, words formed, made of wide W's and not quite connected D's.

_What are you drawing?_

Kiku's gaze fell down to his sketchbook, eyes examining the figure drawn upon it. The answer was obvious, surely Herakles had figured it out for himself with a single glance. Herakles could have easily ignored him.

_A dancer, _Kiku began, taking a cautious glance at Herakles' expression. Calm, or trying to be. His brow was slightly knotted, and while his eyes held their usually sleepiness, they were now accompanied by bags below them. _I've never seen a one in real life before, but the figures are very fun to draw._

One side of Herakles' mouth curled into a smile. _Well, it looks good. I really like it._

Kiku gave a short reply. _Thanks._

The bit of conversation soon lapsed into nothingness, Kiku returning his pencil to the drawing and Herakles, after a short while of peeking over Kiku's shoulder, going to get his own art supplies. Herakles stood, the slow movement of his knees seeming almost reluctant, and Kiku couldn't help but watch as he began to amble towards the back counter of the room. His hair bobbed as he walked, appearing a bit shorter than Friday, but Kiku couldn't quite decided if Herakles' had gotten a haircut or it was merely an illusion.

Kiku's foot swung back and forth beneath the table, only on occasion brushing the floor beneath him. He stared down at the contour of the dancer, trying to figure out what to do next. Set the sketchbook down and peacefully get his stuff? Try to ignore the existence of last Friday? Bring it up as soon as Herakles sat down again?

He lifted the sketchbook onto the table, closing it with as little force as possible, and let his feet touch the floor and push himself backward. Retrieve his paints first, he decided. That was practical. But the quick backward motion was soon stopped by an object behind him. A bit of water fell onto Kiku's shoulder.

Kiku got to his feet in a whirlwind of apology, his toes wriggling in his shoes. A fist quickly formed at his chest, circling maybe once too many times before the action slowed, and his found it's place at Kiku's side. The object, a person, _Herakles, _squatted close to the floor, chin tilted upward with his lips pulled into a calm, forgiving smile. One hand made a smooth waving motion, brushing off the incident, while the other reached for a small plastic cup as it rolled back and forth on the floor.

A small pool of water had formed on the floor, seemingly having poured from the now-empty cup that Herakles grasped in his hand. Two sets of water color paints, along with a couple brushes, were neatly stacked a couple inches away from the mess, being moved ever so slightly as the puddle appeared to grow. Kiku swiveled his head back toward the sinks, catching a few people gazing at the mess they'd made with faint interest. He held up his index finger, as if to say "One second" and rushed to the paper towel dispenser.

As he went, Kiku found his feet twisting and turning, never quite finding a grip on the floor. The generally wet area near the sinks didn't help, and Kiku found himself almost losing his balance several times during the short venture. As soon as he arrived, he unrolled about a mile of paper towels before returning to his seat, his steps a bit more careful as he returned.

Herakles still sat squatted on the floor as he returned, half a smile on his lips and half present in his eyes. Such a nice shade of green, Kiku thought as ripped the dusty brown paper in his hands in half. He handed one half to Herakles, and the small smile molded into Herakles' features grew wider, thankful, as the creased

brown sheet passed between them.

Herakles then brought his head down, his back arced forward, and pressed the napkin into pooling water near his sneakers. Kiku soon joined in, following his lead. He pressed his hands into the spill, letting the cool water engulf his fingertips. His eyes stayed firmly on floor as he applied more pressure to the towel, trained on Herakles' fingers, the way they positioned themselves atop the towel, twisting and bending as they moved. Not because they were particularly intriguing at the moment, no. Kiku found himself locked in a one-sided game of keep-away.

He wasn't sure why- why Herakles' touch held so much power, why he was so scared of it- but Kiku decided it was, at that moment, best to avoid any sort of physical contact.

Herakles' hands would move forward and Kiku's would move back, and then a bit to the side. Herakles' hands would appear to follow (but Kiku hadn't looked up for some time now, so he wouldn't know if Herakles was as focused as he was, or simply just moving to places that need the most attention) and Kiku's hands would skit away as unassumingly as physically possible. To Kiku's relief, it wasn't long before the work was finished, water all soaked up and hands near their own bodies. The paper towels, molded into messy balls of damp, clingy paper, were quickly disposed of.

Kiku quickly slid back into the stiff comfort of his assigned seat, chin tucked down towards his chest and shoulder blades pressed against the cool plastic half-surrounding him. He reached for his pencil. It was a habit, holding a pencil between his fingers. Even if there was nothing to draw or write on, just the way the pencil balanced in the space between his knuckles was a comfort.

Kiku decided he drew to often.

A whisper of a breath escaped the slight 'o' of Kiku's lips as his toes curled inside his shoes. His shoulders rolled backward, in some attempt to make himself more comfortable. It really wasn't working too well.

With a tilt of his head, Kiku's gaze slid to his right, in the direction of Herakles. The taller boy's hair waved around him as he fiddled with the arrangement of art supplies on the table. He would pick up a set of watercolors, move it to one side of his desk, then the other, open it, change his mind, close it, pick up a paintbrush and repeat the process again. Two sets of watercolors, two sets of paintbrushes. That worn red notebook stayed unmoving in the center of it all.

Kiku reached a hand towards the spiral, catching the paper on the edge of his fingertips and pulling it towards him. Kiku looked down at the stretch of light blue lines, out the corner of his eyes noticing Herakles' indecision of tool-placement beginning to cease. Kiku stole a quick glance at him, but didn't let his eyes stray much longer, instead focusing his attention on his pencil, and conducting his hand to form words within the confines of the paper.

Kiku finished the sentence with a period and a sheepish line of a smile on his face. _Sorry about that. _

He decided it'd be maybe okay to look Herakles in the eyes then. He wasn't quite sure he liked what he saw. Sure, there was that forgiving smile and wave of a hand, but something was off. Kiku couldn't quite place what.

Herakles began to scribble a response.

Maybe it was the stiffness of his stature, or the tapping of his fingers against the table as he wrote. Maybe it was the slight furrow in his brow, or the way his writing made sharp indentions in the paper. Kiku didn't get enough time to find out, as Herakles soon lifted his pencil off of the paper, gently pushing the notebook in Kiku's direction.

_It's fine, _said the mess of letters. _I was just an accident. Besides, I wasn't really watching where I was going. _Kiku stared at the paper for a moment longer than it took to read the note, pretending he was reading but really just trying to figure out something to say in reply. His mind was blank, empty space of no suggestions, so he settled with a quick glance to Herakles, accompanied by a small nod.

One side of Herakles' mouth curled upward in an awkward smile, one that Kiku found mirrored on his own lips. But small exchange didn't last long, as Herakles suddenly found the cabinets extremely interesting and Kiku decided to study the dust on the floor.

It was very… dusty, Kiku decided as he lifted his head a little. Herakles' hand had gone back to the notebook. He licked his lips as he wrote, just a small quick little note that was finished in only a matter of seconds. Herakles' pencil lifted off the paper, and was set on the table before the notebook was pushed in Kiku's direction, with it a set of watercolors. The writing was cleaner this time, but it still cut deep into the paper.

_Got you a set of watercolors, just so you know._

Considerate, Kiku thought, smiling widely on the inside but only let the slightest hint of a grin creep onto his real lips. He let a flattened hand move to his lips.

_'Thank you,'_

Herakles nodded in reply, the expression on his face seeming to mean _'Anytime,' _or at least something of the sort. But after the movement ended, his hair ceasing to bob with the motion, Herakles' eyes grew soft and his shoulders began to slump. His teeth peeked out of the cave of his mouth, softly biting his own lip.

The awkwardness hung in the air like fog. A sort of poisonous fog, maybe, because Kiku swore he could feel it find it's way under his skin, into his muscles and bones. His eyes slid away from Herakles, because looking at him would only make this feeling intensify until his face was painted red and his heart exploded.

He could only wonder if maybe Herakles felt the same way.

Kiku was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts by a cool touch brushing against the top of his hand. His head snapped in the direction of the nearly-electric feeling, already knowing the origin of it.

(Kiku had felt those hands before, memorized every inch of them in the time they'd known each other. He knew how they looked, the length of every finger and the curl of every knuckle, but familiarity didn't dissipate the odd feeling in his stomach that came with every touch).

Herakles' sneakers twisted under his seat as he leaned, half hunched over the table before him and half twisted towards Kiku. A hand combed harshly through his dark hair, pulling it from his forehead so that the frustration on his face was even more evident. His lips pressed tightly together while his eyes looked towards Kiku, his expression unsettled, almost pleading.

Herakles pulled his hand out of his messy locks and moved it downward, forward, fingertips finding the edge of that familiar spiral and pushing it in Kiku's direction. There was no need for Herakles to pick up a pencil, as the words were already written, lightly and messily in the middle of the page.

_Did I mess everything up?_

There it was. Out in the open. The question had been boiling in Kiku's mind all day long, but finally someone had just written it out. There was a bit of relief in the action, like the lid being taken off a sizzling pan. The steam dissipated into the atmosphere, even if the food still cooked.

Sure, maybe things were a little different now. How could they not be? Maybe they were a little frayed, a little frazzled, but not broken. Not unfixable. Still… together.

Kiku lifted his head, a little less nervous now, and let his eyes meet Herakles'. There was worry, pooling in his eyes but never slipping past the surface. Kiku decided he didn't like it.

He shook his head. The tension in Herakles' face collapsed, and the muscles began to find their way into a smile. Kiku brought his hands up, his fingers beginning to form simple signs.

_'We're okay,' _he told Herakles.

Herakles responded with words on paper. _Is okay good? _he scrawled, words forming quickly, sloppily between the lines of the notebook.

Kiku nodded his head.

Okay was good.

Okay was… perfect.

oOoOo

After wasting quite a bit of time on their personal problems, Kiku and Herakles finally got to work.

Watercolors. Kiku wasn't the biggest fan, as they were harder to work with, and mistakes were so much easier to make and so much harder to erase, but he had to admit they were beautiful. There was a sort of ethereal quality to the color of them, the way they practically melted into the paper. Kiku took great care with each stroke, sure to make each colorful petal of the flower he was required to make as perfect as possible. His brush soon ran dry, however, and Kiku pulled it off the page and into the cup of water he and Herakles shared. It came back murky.

Kiku shot a glare towards the plastic cup before peering into it. The water, once nice and clear and perfectly usable, was now an ugly shade of greenish-blueish-redish-blackish-brown. Looks like he'd need new water.

Kiku reached for the cup, wet with splashes of water color that would be sure to stain his hand, and grabbed hold of it. He pulled the cup off of the table, but at the same time a brush was thrust towards the area where the murky water once sat. Herakles' brush did a little dance in the air, trying to find where the water cup had gone by itself for a few seconds, before the owner of the brush looked up, a curious expression on his face. Kiku moved his hand closer to Herakles, tilting the cup so that the other boy could see the mess of dyes within it. Herakles' brush returned to his half of the table, and he nodded, eyes a little wide with understanding.

Kiku pulled the cup back towards himself. He took the nod as an okay to go and refill the cup, so he turned on his heel towards the sinks. The area was devoid of people at that moment, with most of the students back at their desks. A few chatted with each other, but most were intensely focused on their own paintings. It was Drawing & Painting II after all; the people in this class really did enjoy art. They weren't just there for the art credit.

Setting down the cup, Kiku reached for the worn out handle of the tap, twisting it harshly so that warm water began to flow. The dark water was thrown into the sink, splashing about the sides and diluting until it was just light grey water swimming down the drain. Kiku let the cup fill with water before pouring it out again, just in case there was any dye still hiding in the cup. He didn't want the cup to get murky too fast. Kiku let the cup refill again, about three-fourths of the way to the rim before he pulled it out of the path of the incoming water. He decided that should last Herakles and himself for the rest of the class period.

Careful not to slip on any water that may be hiding on the floor of the area, Kiku retreated to his seat, eyes turning to Herakles as he walked. Herakles fiddled with his paintbrush, balancing it between his fingers, before his head tilted in the direction of Kiku's side of the desk. His neck craned, obviously trying to see something of Kiku's a little more closely.

Kiku came up behind his own chair and set down the cup between Herakles and himself. Kiku pulled out his chair, raising an eyebrow at Herakles as the boy shrunk back into his own seat. Kiku sunk into the cool confines of his chair while Herakles pulled the red spiral towards himself.

_What's that paper over there say? _he wrote, curiosity shining in his eyes. He lifted his index finger and pointed to a thick half-sheet of paper resting atop Kiku's books.

The invitation, Kiku realized. He probably should have shown the piece of paper to Herakles earlier, as it did involve him quite a bit (he was the subject of the painting after all). He picked up the card-stock and handed it to Herakles, watching as the expression on the boy's face slowly morphed from curious to a small, beautiful smile.

Herakles wrote again, his handwriting eager and messy as he tried to get the words down. _Congrats. You definitely deserved it. _

Kiku felt his face warm at the compliment, and his heart beat just the tiniest bit faster. _Thank you, _he replied. _You can come, if you want._

Herakles' face lit up, expression more excited than Kiku had ever seen it. Herakles was calm creature, so it was odd to see him expressing this much happiness. _Really?_

_ Yes, of course._

Herakles smiled at Kiku, eyes crinkling at the corners and teeth slipping from the confines of his lips to grin widely. It was still a bit sleepy, still a bit calm, but Kiku could practically feel happiness pouring out of the smile.

The expression didn't stay long, however, soon slipping into one of pondering. Herakles began looking at Kiku, studying him almost. Kiku felt every gaze brushing his skin, curving around his jaw, his nose, his eyes. Finally, Herakles turned his focus to the notebook, to putting words on paper.

_I have a question._

Kiku nodded. That much was obvious, but he didn't say as such. _What is it?_

Herakles pressed his lips together and jotted it down.

_Are we dating?_

It was at that point that Kiku's heart felt like it would burst. His face, he was sure, was red, and the small, restrained smile on his face was certainly not voluntary. Kiku didn't know the answer to the question. They did sort of… date-like things, yes. Went to restaurants together, shared secrets, held hands, kissed. But there had never been any real confirmation. They 'hung out', they never went on dates.

So Kiku settled for a middle of the road answer.

_I think so, _he wrote with a small, awkward chuckle. His toes curled impatiently inside his sneakers as he waited for a reply. Kiku knew he could be getting his hopes up, that Herakles could easily say that he liked someone else or that he just wasn't ready for any sort of relationship.

But Kiku doubted that. He let his hopes keep rising.

Kiku's mind drew out the pause between his own words and Herakles' reply. Too many thoughts rushing around to properly keep track of time. But the answer came, and that was all that mattered.

Herakles was smiling. _Smiling._ His response was a nod, and words on paper. _Me too. _

There was some weird sort of warmth pooling in Kiku's chest, tiny dancers flitting around in his stomach. He couldn't put a name to the feeling. It was nervous, but also happy. Deep anticipation filled every nerve, every vein in his body as Herakles wrote again.

_So, are we dating now? _His lips were curled in, tightly pressed against each other, and his eyebrows raised. His eyes were almost… pleading. Kiku could practically see the thoughts behind his eyes.

_Say yes say yes say yes_

Kiku's thoughts said the same.

He lifted his shoulders into a shrug, and he let his lips curl into a true, honest smile. Kiku's chin fell down, then up, then down again. It was such a simple action. There was maybe a few muscles working in his neck, seven in his smile. But it made Herakles so widely and Kiku's heart feel so light. If he had wings, he would be flying. He would spread the word to every bird, cloud, and airplane, smiling so wide at every passenger that they would mistake him for an angel. He would do flips and corkscrews and fly straight towards the ground only to lift himself up at the very very very last second.

But sadly, Kiku had no wings. So he sat in a dusty plastic chair, biting back the world's largest grin while he curled his toes and balanced a pencil between his fingers. He had words playing in his head, trying to climb down to his fingers and escape onto the page. Kiku gripped the pencil a bit tighter. Perhaps he should…?

Yes, he decided. He'd do something maybe a little out there for once in his life. He'd have a little confidence. He'd ask for what he wanted.

The pencil took a cautious stab at the paper, not even writing a letter. Just a scratch. Kiku could have easily left it there, but a quick glance at Herakles pushed him forward.

_Would you like to go on a date?_

His heart raced at the speed of a rocket as he drew the curve of a question mark. He could only watch the page, watch the line below his and wait for an answer.

It wasn't long before the answer came.

Kiku let out a long breath as he read the words, face slowly pulling upward.

_That sounds nice._

All Kiku could write, _think, _was _Really?_

Herakles nodded, and they both laughed a little. And it was okay. But okay was good.

After a few seconds of just them, words finally found their way back to the paper.

Herakles was smiling. _We should probably get back to work._

Kiku smiled back. _Yeah._

* * *

><p><em>Hope you enjoyed this chapter! For the record, I have no idea if a Red River Art Gallery exists, because I made it up. I like to think that both Kiku and his mom are the sort of people who believe if they just forget about a (personal) problem, it will just go away. Ms. Honda isn't a bad parent, just not very hands-on.<em>


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